Keys To My Cuffs (The Heroes of The Dixie Wardens MC Book 4)

by Lani Lynn Vale

  The next five seconds played as expected.

  We both started laughing, and when I moved to help her stand, bullets started hitting the car we were parked behind, peppering it like one would with a paintball gun.

  Instinctively, I tackled Channing to the ground, and started rolling.

  I kept rolling through the gap in the tires of the truck we’d been standing beside until I couldn’t roll anymore.

  Then I crouched over her, extracted my Glock from my ankle holster and handed it to her.

  She was laying on her back, staring up at me in fear.

  “Here,” I said as I shoved the gun into her hand. “You know how to work that?”

  I asked the question without looking at her, knowing that she did, but wanting confirmation.

  “Yes,” she said. “One in the chamber?”

  “Yes,” I whispered, once the shooting stopped.

  The night air was still as I reached for the .45 that was at the small of my back and extracting it.

  “What...” I placed my hand over her mouth, silencing whatever she was about to say.

  She froze, looking at me with fearful eyes. She nodded silently and I removed my hand from her mouth before taking another look around.

  The part of the parking lot we were in was near the back of the lot where the lighting was worst. Which was why I didn’t see the gunmen coming until he already had his rifle up and shooting.

  Burning fire exploded in my right arm, making my grip on my .45 loosen until it fell uselessly to the ground.

  That didn’t stop Channing, though.

  She raised her arm up, pointing upside down at the man, and squeezed the trigger. The gun exploded beside my ear, momentarily stealing my ability to hear.

  It didn’t fuck with my vision, though.

  I saw the man drop like a house of cards.

  The phone in my pocket started buzzing, and I quickly withdrew it with my uninjured hand.

  “Rector,” I barked.

  “Status?” Trance asked in alarm.

  I took in the scene.

  The man was writhing on the ground; I slowly walked on my knees toward him, keeping my gun trained on him the entire way.

  Once I got close enough, I stood and crouched, kicking the man’s gun away from his reach in a spray of gravel.

  “One shooter down. I’m not sure if there’s more, but I’m staying where I am. The shooter’s down, but not dead. Channing’s with me. I’ve been shot in the arm,” I stated crisply.

  “10-4.” I heard a few yards away, and then immediately after, through the receiver of my phone.

  “Over here.” I called loudly.

  “Clear.”

  “Clear.”

  “Clear.”

  “Clear.”

  “Clear.”

  The word was repeated over and over again as fifteen people poured out of the shadows.

  That was one benefit of being at a cop and MC owned joint. There was no shortage of people knowing what to do. There was also no need to call the cops, because there were six already there: three in uniform, and three in plains clothes.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Channing take Trance’s offered hand as she was lifted up to her feet.

  She murmured a thank you before heading to me.

  “Oh, God. Your arm looks disgusting,” she cried.

  Several chuckles followed her statement, including my own.

  “Thanks,” I said amusingly.

  She poked at it with a lone finger. “Does it hurt?”

  Just that fine of a touch was enough to shoot shards of pain down my arm in droves.

  “Ow, fuck. Lay off, woman!” I called out loudly.

  I kept my eye on the writhing man, and was amused to see that Channing’s aim was true.

  “You shot him up his dick and into his belly,” I mused.

  “His insides are probably the consistency of soup,” Channing observed.

  That was the truth. I had hollow points in all of my guns. If anything was worth doing, it was worth doing right, in my opinion.

  Hollow points were made to expand and mushroom once they hit something. Let it be flesh or wood. If it comes into contact with the bullet, you best believe that whatever it hits will be destroyed.

  Police used it to have minimal collateral damage. If a bullet were to hit something, it was made not to travel.

  “D-do you think he’ll l-live?” Channing stuttered.

  “Maybe,” I hedged.

  There was no way the guy was going to live. His internal organs were probably more the consistency of stew rather than soup, but the outcome was still the same. He wasn’t going to make it, but I didn’t want Channing to know that yet. Not until I had my arm taken care of, and we were in the privacy of one of our homes.

  The sirens started to break the silence of the night, and in two short minutes, two cop cars, an ambulance, and a fire truck arrived on scene.

  Then there was The Chief.

  “What the fuck happened, Rector?” The Chief snarled as I was being looked over by a paramedic.

  The paramedic, Dallas, replied. “Well, it’s obvious to me he was shot. Is that not obvious to you?”

  Dallas had a mouth on him, and he couldn’t be serious in any situation. When it came to authority figures, he rebelled; hence, why he smarted off to the Chief of Police.

  Cabe gave Dallas a withering glare, but Dallas didn’t react in the least, which caused Cabe to turn his glare back on me.

  He raised his eyebrows at me as if saying ‘well?’

  Sighing, I started to explain.

  Once I was finished, Cabe stared up at the night sky in resignation. “What the fuck is with you Dixie Wardens? I’m so goddamned tired of the lot of you getting into trouble. Goddammit. I was in bed with my wife. Do you know how fucking rare it is to get there this fucking early in the evening? That’s right. Pretty fucking rare.”

  Channing’s amused giggle sounded from behind Cabe, and Cabe turned to glare at her, but softened once he realized who he was glaring at.

  “You okay, honey?” He asked.

  She smiled tiredly at him.

  “I’m doing better than you, by the sound of it,” she quipped.

  “Killing. Raping. Shooting. Jesus Christ, Rector. You’re like the fucking plague, leaving death and gore in your wake,” Cabe sighed.

  The reminder of what was following me sobered my face instantly, wiping away any traces of humor.

  “Yes, sir,” I muttered.

  Cabe turned and placed his hands on his hips. “I think you need to get the fuck outta here for a couple of weeks. Take Channing and go visit your folks for the holidays. I’ll see if we can get Varian moved to the new facility this week instead of the next. You had some leave, anyway.”

  Something inside of me told me that was the correct move for now. Whomever was playing the game with me knew the rules, and I didn’t. What better way to quit the game than to remove myself from the game board. If I wasn’t here, and Channing wasn’t here, the challenger wouldn’t have any other recourse but to resign, too.

  At least I’d hoped.

  There was nothing left for me to do, not with my authority to investigate stripped away.

  What’s the worst that could happen?

  Apparently, a lot.

  Chapter 15

  I like your dick and I cannot lie. My orgasm is the reason why.

  -Text from Channing to Loki

  Loki

  “Why do we have to stay here?” Channing asked as she walked around the cabin.

  “Because it’s not safe to stay at our places when people have been shooting at us. And it’s not fair to our neighbors,” I said dryly.

  She stuck her tongue out. “I understand that, butthead. I was more saying why here, in particular. Why not a hotel...or just leave tonight.”

  “The same reasons apply. Staying out in the middle of nowhere pu
ts less people at risk. This is one of the safe houses the club uses in times of emergency. Silas owns it outright. It’s owned under a false name, so there are no tracks that lead to the club. As for why we’re not leaving tonight, we’re going to be having a few riders come along.

  Cleo, Sterling, and Parker will be riding with us. Plus, you said you wanted to say goodbye to your dad before we left,” I explained.

  Parker and Sterling had to meet back in Florida to get back to base within the next week anyway, so it was no skin off their nose to head back with me to act as added protection.

  Cleo was going because he was amused by Channing, despite only knowing her for a short period of time.

  Stripping off my shirt, I tossed it to the floor, and followed it up with my boots, pants, and underwear.

  “What,” Channing cleared her throat. “What are you doing?”

  I stared at her still clothed body. “Taking a shower. Want to join me?”

  Not waiting for her answer, I shucked my underwear and walked towards the bathroom.

  The safe house was simple in design. A kitchen. A living room. A bedroom, and a bathroom. Nothing more, nothing less.

  It was in the middle of nowhere on twelve acres of land.

  The floor was made of wood, and the walls were made of faux wood.

  It was constructed on a budget, but it did its job by providing shelter from the elements.

  The roof was tin, and with the light rain that was coming down, it sounded heavenly.

  Getting to the bathroom, I turned on the water and stepped inside without waiting for it to warm.

  The cool water hit me on the chest, and made my balls crawl up tight to my body, but I relished in the cool temperature.

  I always took cold showers. Earlier in life, it was because my mom couldn’t afford a water heater. Over time, it became a habit. So much so that I rarely ever turned on the hot water if it was just me. Even rarer was for me to be in the shower with someone.

  Hence why Channing shrieked when she stepped into the shower.

  Her nipples beaded into tight turgid points as the water spread over her back and shoulders. Goosebumps pebbled her flesh, spreading from her shoulders all the way down.

  “Holy shit,” she gasped. “What’s the deal? They don’t have hot water here?”

  I reached forward, pressing my body against hers, and cranked the hot water until it was fully on.

  Her body felt so right today, and her hips softer, almost fuller.

  Her belly pressed into my abs, a small, hardened pooch there now, where before there was only softness.

  Then my concentration was stolen from her stomach, to her breasts that seemed to have grown double overnight.

  Hot water started to cascade down the both of us, seeping between our bodies, and pooling in the places where there was no distance between the two of us. For instance, the valley of her breasts was gathering a pool of water, held only by the press of our bodies.

  Reaching forward again, I grabbed the soap and started running it along the length of her back, letting the solid bar of Dial slip and slide along her smooth skin.

  She groaned and let her head fall until it was resting on my shoulder, jostling me and causing a twinge of pain to radiate through my arm.

  She caught the flinch, and backed off immediately. “Oh, God. I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

  When I’d gone to the hospital, I hadn’t been in nearly as much pain as I was now, which meant the lovely pain meds they’d given me were wearing off.

  By the time the whole fiasco and subsequent recounting of the events was said and done, I’d been taken to the hospital where they’d cleaned the bullet wound that went through my lower forearm.

  Luckily, the bullet had entered my arm and traveled directly in between the ulna and radius. Now it just hurt like a bitch. If that hadn’t happened, I would have required surgery.

  “You weren’t supposed to get that wet,” Channing chided.

  I looked down at the stitches in my arm and grimaced. “Yeah, well shit happens.”

  “You just let me know how that works for you when your arm rots off from dysentery and Gangrene,” she snapped, gently grabbing a hold of my arm and lifting it out of the water.

  She maneuvered it until I had my palm pressing against the top of her shoulder, allowing the stitches to remain water free.

  “Dysentery is where you eat bad chicken and get the shits. It has nothing to do with getting your stitches wet,” I observed dryly.

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “Whatever.”

  Uh-oh. Them’s fighting words.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, taking my free hand and running the backs of my fingers along her lower jaw.

  She closed her eyes, and leaned her head against my hurt-free shoulder.

  “Nothing.”

  Strike two. Whatever and nothing.

  “Please tell me what’s wrong,” I said softly, giving her cheek and then her neck a soft, wet kiss.

  “I’m fine.”

  Strike three.

  Curling my hand around her jaw with my working hand, I lifted her head until her eyes stared into mine. Then I crowded her until her bare back met the cold tiles.

  Her eyes widened, and she gasped when I followed her body, pressing the entire length of my body into hers, from knees to chest.

  “Tell me,” I said before giving her a punishing kiss.

  The hand that had been resting on her shoulder was shoved aside, forgotten, as she threw her arms around my neck.

  She buried her hands into the hair on the back of my head, and she pressed impossibly closer.

  My raging cock found a home against the apex of her thighs, and I ground myself into her, eliciting a moan.

  “Tell me,” I breathed against her lips.

  Her tongue left her mouth, and entered mine.

  Our tongues dueled, her tongue running along with mine.

  She froze when the head of my cock pressed between her clenched thighs.

  Smiling devilishly, she reached for the soap, got a good lather up, and ran both fists along the length of my raging cock.

  When it was nice and slippery, she dropped the soap to the bottom of the shower, and then pulled me forward once again.

  The head of my cock, newly lubed with the soap, slipped in between her clenched thighs. The head tunneled through the lips of her sex, and disappeared between the crack of her ass behind her.

  “Ohh,” she breathed.

  Pulling out until the head of my cock rested against the engorged heat of her clit, I gave short strokes forwards and back.

  The head of my cock was so sensitive that I was getting just as much excitement out of it as she was.

  I looked down and watched as the length of my ruddy veined cock entered and then disappeared in between her thighs.

  Soap bubbles were lathering thickly along the stalk of my shaft, mingling not just with my own pubic hair, but with Channing’s as well.

  She also watched; both of us were zeroed in on the point where I stopped and she began.

  The tight fit of her thighs and the slickness of the water and soap almost made the entire action feel like the real thing.

  “I need you inside of me,” she begged.

  Grinning evilly at her, I pulled back, removing my rock hard cock from her and backing away until there was a foot between us. My cock was the only thing trying to span the breach, but I wanted answers, and I wasn’t going to get any if I just gave her what she wanted.

  “Tell me,” I said, looking into her pleading eyes.

  “I...I...” she shook her head.

  Bending down, she picked up the bar of soap that had made its way to the drain, and started to lather up her body.

  I helped.

  Mostly my washing her turgid nipples, first with my mouth, and then with the bar of soap I stole from her hand.

  I ran the tip of my finger around her areola,
slowly working my way inside until I was over the very tip. Then I pinched it lightly, eliciting a hiss out of her.

  “If you won’t fuck me, I’ll just do the job myself,” she snapped.

  Leaning forward, the water cascaded over her body in slow rivulets, washing away the suds that I’d lathered up on her breasts.

  Then her fingers disappeared between her thighs, and her eyes closed as she sank her fingers into her wet heat.

  “Yes, Loki. Yes,” she moaned.

  The sight before me was amazing. I’d never actually witnessed a woman masturbating in person. Sure, I’d seen plenty of women doing it in magazines, but nothing, and I do mean nothing, could compare to this.

  Reaching forward, I awkwardly fisted my cock with my left hand, and started working it with slow, stiff draws.

  The head of my cock leaked at the sight of her.

  Her chest was flushed. Her hair slicked back away from her face. Her tits squished together. One hand was on the opposite nipple, pinching.

  Then she lifted her breast and ran the tip of her tongue around the areola before sucking the tip into her mouth.

  I froze, mesmerized.

  “God,” I breathed.

  Her eyes opened, and they communicated with me that she knew what she was doing to me.

  Closing again, she doubled her efforts between her legs before switching to the other nipple.

  That’s about when my control broke.

  Lunging forward, I snatched the hand that was in between her thighs out, and pinned it to the wall above her head.

  “Turn around,” I demanded.

  Letting the nipple in her mouth go, she turned and presented me with her upturned ass.

  Then I lined my cock up with her entrance, and slammed inside.

  Gone were my problems. Gone were the ‘what if’s.’ Gone was the outside world until there was only her and me. My cock inside her wet heat.

  There was so much wetness that I didn’t know whether it was coming from her, me, or the shower. Whatever the reason, I worked with it.

  My cock plunged into her tight pussy unimpeded. The wet sounds of our flesh slapping against each other’s filled the small stall.

  One particularly rough thrust of my hips caused Channing to lean forward until her forearms were planted in the tiled wall in front of her.