by Alyssa Breck
Her eyes widened. “What is it?”
Instead of entertaining her question, he lifted her off her feet and wrapped her legs around his waist. He probably outweighed her by a hundred pounds, so he didn’t want to plop down on top of her. A broken rib or a bruised lung would definitely kill the ambiance. He smiled and gently laid her back on the bed.
There wasn’t much to the little, white panties she wore, and he pulled them down her legs, planting kisses on her inner thigh.
She stared up at him. “Wait.”
Chapter SEVEN
Holly
Hunter was poised to pounce, but she wasn’t on the pill, and the last thing she needed was an unexpected biker baby.
Holly pointed to the nightstand. “Bottom drawer.”
He looked puzzled. “What’s in the bottom drawer?”
“Protection.”
“Oh. Oh. Yeah. Okay.” He bent down and came back up with a small red package.
She’d bought them about a year ago … just in case.
He eyed the box. “These aren’t going to work, babe.”
“Why not?”
With a tug of the chain on his hip, his wallet was in his hand. He unsnapped it and pulled out a square gold foil package. “Not the right size.”
Holly laughed. “Oh. Well. Damn.”
The laugh was a little nervous. The gold foil package was probably a bigger size. She’d felt the hardness pressed against her back in the kitchen. He was a lot bigger than her overall, and she assumed he’d be sized to scale.
He pulled his shirt over his head then tossed the condom on the bed. His chest and arms were covered in tattoos. A large black skull was front and center. A jagged scar the size of a bullet hole was just above his nipple. The tattoos down his arms bled from one into the other and the images blurred and contorted with the contraction of his biceps. His muscular physique had been hidden by the big T-shirt and vest.
Hunter let his pants fall to the floor. The mattress creaked beneath his weight as he crawled up between her legs. He kissed her stomach and moved to her breast. He closed his lips on one of her nipples and sucked softly. For all his outward ferocity, he was surprisingly tender.
A primal instinct stirred inside her, and she lifted her hips. “I want you.”
He moved to the other breast. “Not yet.” His beard tickled her ribs while he ministered to the other nipple.
She grabbed his head and arched her back. He gripped her waist and moved her farther back on the bed before slipping a finger inside her. The rings on his other fingers rubbed against her as he moved in and out of her.
“You’re so fucking wet.” He straightened up onto his knees and reached for the gold package.
She tried not to stare, but his cock was huge. He used his teeth to rip open the wrapper. He rolled the condom over his dick. The light from the hallway caused his body to shadow her in darkness.
The ceiling fan slowly turned above them. Thunder cracked outside, and the rain slammed against the windows. Hunter gripped her leg behind the knee and opened her more. With one thrust, he slid inside, slow and deep.
Holly gasped and dug her nails into his shoulders.
He hissed and pulled out only to slide in deeper. “Fuck.” He gritted his teeth as if he were teetering on the edge of losing control.
She wanted him to. Holly pulled his face down to hers to kiss him. “You won’t break me, Hunter.”
“I might.” His eyes rolled back, and his lids dropped. With a quick motion, he pinned her arms beside her head and rammed into her hard, fast, deep.
Her panting segued into moans and squeaks and screams. Pleasure and pain mingled until she didn’t know where one sensation ended and the other began. All she knew was that her body tingled and hummed in ways it never had before. She had no doubt that he could hurt her, but he tempered his strength just right.
He kissed her fast and nipped her lip with his teeth. She tried to lock her ankles behind his back, but he moved too quick. The tightness started in her toes and flowed up her legs to her core. Her breath caught in her throat, and the orgasm struck like the lightning outside.
Hunter slowed his movements while her body convulsed, and her pussy gripped his cock deep inside her. “Jesus. That feels so good.”
“Yes.” Her fingers curled into fists, and he released her wrists, moving his hands down to hold her hips.
He slammed into her over and over, then stabbed deep. He tensed and growled as he came.
She panted and held onto his shoulders. “My God.”
He laughed. “You okay?”
“Mhmm,” she muttered. Her feet were numb, and her body throbbed deliciously.
The hair from his beard tickled her neck, and she liked it.
Hunter kissed her cheek and rolled off her. They both breathed hard. “I’ll be right back,” he said and disappeared into the bathroom.
Holly sat on the edge of the bed while the feeling came back to her legs. His phone had fallen out of his pocket and buzzed against the wood floor. She picked it up, and a message from PRES showed on the screen.
Did you convince the reporter to keep her mouth shut?
“Oh, hell no.” She stood up and peered into the bathroom. The club rockers and emblem were tattooed larger than life on Hunter’s back.
He splashed water on his face and dried it on the blue hand towel.
Holly held his phone up. “Is this what tonight was?”
Hunter looked over his shoulder. “What?”
“You can go now.” She threw the phone at him, and it bounced off his back and landed on the bathroom tile.
Chapter EIGHT
Hunter
It had been precisely three minutes since he pulled his dick out of her, and she was going ballistic on him. That was why he avoided spending the night anywhere. He bent down and picked up his phone from the floor. The message from Paul was on the screen, and he now understood why she was pissed. Fuck.
“Look, Holly. This was a phenomenally bad timed message.”
“Your club thought you could shut me up by fucking me?” She laughed, but it was more of a cackle.
The post-coital bliss dissipated, and he scrubbed his hand over his face. Women were crazy, but he knew this looked bad. “We were off the record tonight. I wasn’t here for my club.”
“Right.” She opened a drawer in the dresser and pulled out a pair of panties. “I can’t believe I fell for this.”
Hunter stepped out of the bathroom and grabbed his jeans. There wasn’t anything he could say that would convince her he hadn’t just bedded her in exchange for her silence, so he quit while he was ahead. He buckled his belt and opened up his messages. He texted Hem Holly’s address and said he needed a ride ASAP.
Holly pulled a tank top over her head and gathered her hair back into a ponytail. She wasn’t talking to him anymore but walked around the room muttering self-admonitions and swearing.
And Holly apparently swore like a sailor when she was mad.
“Hem is on his way to pick me up.”
“Good.” She stood there in her underwear with her hand on her hip. “You can wait for him outside.”
The door shut and the deadbolt engaged. He laughed to himself while he stood on her porch watching the rain and waiting on Hem. He couldn’t remember a time when a woman had ever literally kicked him out of her bedroom.
He patted his jacket pocket looking for his cigarettes. They must have fallen out of his pants with his phone.
An hour later, a white Dodge Ram pulled up in front of Holly’s house. Hunter slid into the passenger side.
Hem smiled as he made a U-turn. “I take it the damage control didn’t go so well.”
“You know when the stars line up perfectly and then everything goes perfectly wrong? Yeah, that.”
A work truck with rows of glass stacked on the back sat in front of the clubhouse while two men chipped away what was left of the windows from the night before. The wooden shutters inside had been
custom built and would take more time to replace.
Hunter stood in the sun and chugged his coffee. Everyone was present for the meeting except Paul. Nothing happened without the president in attendance.
His cup was empty, and he walked inside. The broken glass and splintered wood had been swept up by the prospect last night. Hem, Kol, and Sin were already in the chapel. Hunter refilled his coffee and sat in his usual seat.
“Any new info on the Russians, Hem?”
“According to my contact in the ATF, they’ve been progressively moving north and east. They’ve got new hubs in New Mexico and Oklahoma. They tried in Arkansas but got stonewalled by the Vipers there. The buzz is they’re trying to take over the south and will move across the states until they control the heroin from coast to coast. Crack isn’t selling as well anymore.”
Hem cracked his knuckles and leaned back in his chair. “Dallas is a big distribution area. They have El Paso, Houston, San Antonio, and Amarillo. Dallas would be a complete takeover here.”
Hunter leaned forward. “Why wouldn’t they just come to us? Why stir up shit?”
“That I don’t know. I can only speculate. My guess would be that they don’t want to share the trade and they’ve strong-armed their way into the other areas. Over the last two years, they’ve left a trail of bodies. Important bodies.”
“So, this was a message?”
“More of a riddle,” Sin interjected. “How were we supposed to know what they were up to or even who they were? If Hunt hadn’t seen that tatt, we wouldn’t have a clue.”
Paul walked in and closed the doors to the chapel. “I got a phone call last night.” He sat down and exhaled. “There’s a problem brewing between the Mescalito cartel and the Russians. We weren’t the only club hit last night. They shot up charters in Denver and Biloxi, too.”
“Are we looking at a fucking turf war? I thought we bled that shit out in the nineties,” Hunter said.
“Until there’s more intel, I don’t know. Our club is going to be light with the members in Austin this weekend. The rest of us should hunker down here.” Paul stood. “That’s the safest option. Now let’s get to work.”
Hunter stayed seated while the others began to file out. “You landed me in hot water with your text message last night, Pres.”
Paul grinned. “She’s already checking your messages? That leash went on fast.”
“Nah. My phone was on the floor in her bedroom when your message came through.”
“Oh, fuck.” Paul slapped his hand on the table and laughed. “I’m sorry, brother.”
“She kicked me out, so I’m back to square one.” Hunter smiled and stood. “She was pissed, but I don’t think she’ll write that story or any story.”
“I hope not. With all this shit stirring, we don’t need any bad press.”
Hunter started to walk out.
“Hey,” Paul called out.
“Yeah?”
“It wouldn’t be a bad idea to have her here this weekend. She might be a target, too.”
“I was thinking the same thing.”
Chapter NINE
Holly
The pencil slid through Holly’s fingers, and the pink rubber eraser bounced on the desk. She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. The thesis was finished and without betraying any confidences or making anyone look bad. The deadline was six o’clock, and after re-reading it several times, she hit send, and it was off to her professor’s inbox.
On Fridays, she wore yoga pants and baggy sweatshirts and watched horror movies. A stack of DVDs sat beside the television on the credenza in her living room. A patchwork quilt covered the leather couch. A pillow from her bed was propped in one corner. She put a paper bag of kettle corn into the microwave and poured a glass of wine. The light in the kitchen spilled into the living room to give just enough illumination, so she didn’t scare herself to death with the movies.
The first Scream movie was her favorite. Even though she knew how it ended it still kept her on the edge of her seat. Drew Barrymore popped her popcorn while Holly ate hers. She pulled the blanket up over her lap and curled her legs under her butt.
Just as she got comfortable, her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She reached over to grab it.
“Hello.”
“Holly. It’s Grant.”
Most of her work came via a phone call from the assistant editor at the Dallas Daily, and she counted herself lucky to do all of her work from home. She followed the social scenes via the internet and occasionally went to concerts and events to write articles about the local happenings. It would have been easier to live in Dallas, but she enjoyed the small suburb of Sugar Branch.
“Hey, Grant. What’s up?” Holly muted the television to hear him better.
“There’s a grand opening for a new restaurant in Dallas. I was going to send Martin, but when I spoke with the owner, he asked for you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. He said he’d met you before.”
“Who is it?”
“Sergei Nikolaev.”
“Hmm. Doesn’t ring a bell, but I meet a lot of people.”
“Can you make it by eight?” Grant asked. “He was adamant that you be there at eight.”
Holly looked at the clock. “It’ll be a tight squeeze, but I think I can. If I get on the road by seven, I’ll be good.”
“Okay. I’ll text you the address. And he said to park in the back by the service door.”
“Okay. Thanks, Grant.”
So much for a quiet evening at home. While Holly pulled on a pair of dress pants and a blouse she tried to place that name. Sergei Nikolaev didn’t sound familiar at all. It was distinct enough that she would likely remember meeting him. Not that it mattered. Covering the event would pay a few bills.
The parking lot was empty, and the restaurant was dark. Holly double checked the address. Maybe Grant had mixed up the days. The clock on her dashboard read five minutes before eight. The place should already be bustling even if they weren’t opening their doors until nine or ten.
She pulled into a spot at the rear of the restaurant. A small lamp outside the door was the only light. The sign by the street looked like it had seen better days, and the beige stucco building could benefit from a power wash. A couple of shrubs had overgrown their flowerbed, and the branches flowed out toward the parking spots.
The parking lot backed up to a tall wooden fence. Holly pulled her keys out of the ignition. The small penlight on her keychain was the best she had to check things out. The canister of pepper spray rolled onto the passenger seat, and she remembered that she hadn’t replaced it after last week. There wouldn’t be enough left if she needed it. Hopefully, she wouldn’t need it. But her senses were piqued, something felt off.
Grant had never sent her on a dead lead before. She walked around the side of the restaurant and shined her small light into the first window. Sheets covered what she presumed to be tables and chairs. There was sawdust on the floor. If there was a grand opening planned, they were sorely behind schedule. Wires hung from the ceiling where light fixtures should have been.
She punched Grant’s number into her phone. It rang twice then Grant’s monotonous voice instructed the caller to leave a message.
“Hey, it’s Holly. I don’t know if this guy gave you the wrong date or what, but there’s no one here. In fact, this restaurant is still under construction. Call me when you get this.” She ended the call and walked around the cobblestone pathway that led to the red service door in the rear.
A buzzing sound was coming from somewhere nearby. The buzz turned into a high pitched squeal, like a dog whistle. She sniffed the air. What was that smell? Sulfur? Gun powder? She shined her light on the back door. Two wires snaked up the wall to a small box just below the roof. It reminded her of one of those hide-a-key boxes. Maybe their security system was shorting out.
Not her problem.
She turned around to get into her car when a loud beeping sound caught
her attention. She looked at her phone. It was eight sharp.
Chapter TEN
Hunter
Smoke billowed from the back of the building. The bomb had been designed to take out the kitchen area. The black van sat across the street from the restaurant. In reality, it wasn’t a restaurant at all but a meth lab. Recent intel had alerted the club to the fact Russians were cooking and distributing meth. Not only were they trying to take over heroin and crack, but they were also working on inching the Irish Sons out of the meth business. Moving in on the motorcycle clubs was dangerous, fucking with the IS was insanity. Those motherfuckers would kill your mom over an indiscretion.
The IS had called in a favor, more of a job. They were aware that the Knights’ clubhouse had been shot up a week ago and offered a lump of cash to the club to blow up the Russians’ operation. No one wanted to be in bed with the Irish Sons, but it was better to not be on their target list.
Hunter sat behind the wheel of the van and tapped his gloved finger on the steering wheel. He personally would have liked to blow up the Irish Sons’ house, but that was a war he wasn’t prepared to launch at the moment. The Knights and the Irish Sons had very different ideologies, but they had a common enemy that day.
“We should go,” Kol said from the back. He had rigged the bomb up and placed it when a construction crew was installing some wiring in the front of the restaurant. It went off at eight o’clock as planned. “There’ll be no more cooking in that kitchen anytime soon.”
Satisfied that the job was completed, Hunter pulled away from the curb. Hem was perched in the very rear of the van, watching out the tinted back windows. They passed the parking lot.
“Wait a second,” Hem said. “Back up real quick.”
“Why?” Hunter asked, stepping on the brakes.
