Ride Hard (Savage Saints MC Book 1)

by Hazel Parker

  Any shift that ended around midnight that did not feature a sudden rush of gunshot victims or stabbing victims felt like a good night to me. I wouldn’t quite call such shifts pleasant, because you always had the one teenager who didn’t know how to handle their alcohol, the one motorist who thought drunk driving in a small town was OK, or the one grandma who had mixed up her meds, but compared to the knowledge that violence lived just a few blocks down, it was much, much nicer.

  I started to head home from my shift, about five minutes from my apartment, a nice, warm bed, and my cat, Greenie, when my phone buzzed with a text. I looked down and saw the name “Tracy Cole” on the lock screen. Oh, heavens, I thought, but I couldn’t help but bring a smile to my face.

  Still, the better to give myself an out in case I didn’t want to do whatever he had in mind, I decided not to read his text until I parked the car to my apartment.

  I punched in the gate code, waited patiently for the doors to swing open, and then drove inside, parking at the furthest apartment in the back. Once I’d parked—but not yet opened the door—I opened the text.

  “Throwing celebration party here. You should come :-)”

  A celebration for what, I thought, though it didn’t prevent me from responding.

  “Kind of late, don’t you think? I just finished my shift, and I am pretty tired.”

  I put the phone down, thinking of heading inside… but I couldn’t. Or rather, a part of me just chose not to get my legs up. I wanted to see Tracy, even if my body was fatigued and my mind just craved that soft, purple pillow, announcing the end of another day.

  My phone vibrated yet again, and without hesitation, I pulled open his text.

  “You know how Saint parties go. Just getting started. Wanna see you.”

  This is going to go on all night if I don’t show up, isn’t it? I thought about putting the phone on silent so I could sleep, but…

  “How drunk are you?”

  I hadn’t meant the question accusingly, but once I hit send and it went on its way, I realized it had probably come across more aggressively than I had intended for it to. It was too late to take back now, but it would certainly get to the point. The thoughtful, introspective, charming Tracy that I had seen at the bar? I wanted to see that man.

  That man could make me reevaluate all of the thoughts and associations I had with the Savage Saints. Instead of making me think of the Saints as a bunch of criminals that wouldn’t let my father leave for safety—even though my father had explicitly chosen to stay with the club—it made me realize these were more like men who knew they didn’t have a life outside of Green Hills but wanted to protect it all the same. Instead of it being an island of misfits, it was more like a commune of brothers. Instead of them being uncontrolled and wild, they were… well, still uncontrolled and wild, but they self-governed appropriately.

  If Tracy was drunk, though? My father had banned me at the Savage Saints parties until I was eighteen, and even then, he wouldn’t let me stay past ten, but what I had seen in the early hours and what I had seen by sneaking around was enough to convince me such parties were more akin to porn-star orgies than they were college parties. At least with that, I never had to risk turning into a partier at NYU. College parties kind of have a way of looking lame when you’ve partied with an entire motorcycle club, or hell, just seen one.

  “Three shots over two hours so buzzed enough to talk but sober enough not to be stupid.”

  “Is that so?”

  I had that written out but hadn’t yet hit send.

  Then I laughed and sent the full message.

  “Is that so? :-) I’ll be there in twenty.”

  Damn, Jane. First time after ten at one of these parties, huh?

  First time also at the clubhouse since Pop’s funeral, too…

  I did my best not to dwell on that detail, hurrying inside to change into something that wasn’t medical scrubs. I found my jeans, a nice black tank top, and some flat nude shoes and had those on in a heartbeat. I didn’t have time for makeup, but then again, I wasn’t trying to compete with the porn stars on who had the most made up face.

  Just before departing, I paused at my kitchen table, staring at the envelope I had stuffed earlier that morning, intending to drop it off on Monday, my next day off. I knew what I had said to the club about getting expensive car repairs, but it just didn’t feel right to wait. I had to make these payments now.

  I took the tan envelope, deciding I’d figure out a good time to give it based on the flow of the evening, and made the decision to head out for a party that wouldn’t wrap up until sunrise.

  If that.

  * * *

  When I parked my car outside the clubhouse, it really hit me that I had not been there in some ten years.

  It still had the same exterior, the “Peters Automotive Repairs” sign across from it in gold and black lettering, the actual clubhouse building looking like someone had built a storage shack across from the main mechanic shop. It was a simple black and beige design, not something that would identify it as a Savage Saints property. Of course, being on the same land space as my father’s mechanic shop would give it away in a heartbeat, but an isolated photograph would never have someone convinced of its actual location.

  From where I stood as I got out of the vehicle, I could already see and hear a few telltale signs that the party, despite it not yet being one in the morning, had already reached the levels that one might stereotypically expect from a biker party.

  First, on two of the tables outside, two of the Saints were already passed out. One looked like Mafia, wearing a shit-eating grin and his eyes closed. A topless woman lay on top of him, also passed out. The other table had Sensei, but he looked like he had fallen asleep staring at the stars, not getting sucked off by some random girl. It would have looked almost serene if not for the bottle of whiskey, half-drunk, next to him.

  Inside, music blared loud enough that I couldn’t believe no one had called in for a noise violation until it came to me that no one would have the balls for that. The Saints might have loved Green Hills and defended it and protected it, but anyone who had the bright idea to challenge the Saints would probably face a few loud motorcycles at night, a couple of “friendly reminders,” or just a visit from the president if they wanted things to stay peaceful.

  Just before I got to the door, a member I didn’t recognize nearly swung the door open hard enough to hit me in the face.

  “Shit!” I said.

  “Apologies, ma—URP—am,” he said, just before throwing up on the sidewalk.

  Oh, this place.

  I stepped inside, recognizing the long hallway that led to the main area which had two pool tables, a bar, the door to the hall, and another hallway with a few different bedrooms for the president, vice president, and first-come, first-serve for any other officer.

  What I did not recognize in terms of it being there but immediately recognized in terms of content was the number of photographs of my father adorning the walls. There were numerous photos stretching back to when my father had a full mane of hair all the way to last few months of his life. It was a true reminder that while Tracy might have led the club now, he had not founded it—it felt akin to walking into a church and seeing the stained glass windows.

  The comparison might have felt a little exaggerated, if only because my father would have never wanted to be compared to a deity, but it wasn’t that far off. The Saints certainly wouldn’t have said anything otherwise.

  “You approve?”

  I looked right to see the man I had come here for standing, hands in his pockets, leaning against the wall, smiling at me. I smiled back.

  “I never knew you guys had done anything like this,” I said. “I… I guess I’m not sure what I would have thought. I tried not to think about this place too much over the past decade.”

  “Couldn’t blame you, in some ways,” Tracy said, coming close and putting his arm around me. “But now you’re here. And let m
e tell you, I can’t help but have thought of you over the past hour.”

  He then went in to kiss me.

  But at that moment, I heard a loud “woooooo!” as if they had seen Tracy go in for the kiss and wanted it to happen. Embarrassed, I turned my cheek at the last second, giving him that but not my lips. He pulled back, more amused at my maneuver than annoyed or angered by it.

  “Playing hard to get now, huh?”

  “I have some dignity, you know,” I said, though I said it as I rubbed his arm. “Unlike, say…”

  My voice trailed off as Krispy ran into view from the hallway. Thankfully, he moved so quickly it was difficult to see much of anything, but he was definitely naked.

  As was the woman chasing after him.

  “You really know how to throw a party, huh?” I said, giving him a bit of an accusatory face, although I was more entertained than anything else.

  “Yeaaaaah, he’s supposed to be in bed by now.”

  “What, with Boob Lady?”

  “That was the idea. Hey, Krispy! Go put some pants on man; we got sober people in the house who don’t need to see you like this!”

  “Ahhh, Trace, Trace, who, who? Is it the lucky lady?”

  “Lucky lady?” I said, very interested in what this meant.

  Now I stepped out and saw, thankfully, Krispy sitting on the couch, only his face and shoulders visible. I also saw the naked girl sit next to him and then lean over, her face disappearing into Krispy. It didn’t take much imagination to figure out what was happening, most especially because Krispy’s eyes bulged.

  “Oh, shit, it is!” Krispy said, followed by a couple of moans. “Yeaaaaah, yeaaah, this man here, he been talkin’ bout you, you, Jane Peters! He likes you! He—URP—he, uhh—”

  “All right, that’s enough, Krispy,” Tracy said, showing more bravery than I ever had in going to the man getting fellatio to move him back to the bedroom. “Candy, Krispy, would you?”

  “Oh, sure!” Krispy said, standing up to a visual that I knew I could never unsee. “C’mon, girl! We’ll do the public shit later!”

  “Yeah, we will!” the girl apparently named Candy said.

  She seemed to eye me up with some sort of arrogant smirk, as if she was not impressed that I didn’t have size… I don’t know, size G breasts or something ridiculous. To me, I had never seen a more classic example of the phrase “too much of a good thing.”

  Still, I could feel the warmth of excitement from Krispy’s words, even as Tracy moved to push Krispy and Candy into a more private room. I took the opportunity to look around the rest of the clubhouse—while people weren’t naked, it was much of the same.

  Club members were more or less either dry humping, kissing, drinking, or passed out in different spots. There was very little else that was going on, and if they weren’t doing one of those things, they were in the process of making one of those things happen. I can see why Pops may not have wanted me to come to these things.

  Although being someone’s old lady and not having to worry about getting chased by one of these guys would make for a hell of a night people-watching.

  “Sorry about that,” Tracy said as he stood by me. “What can I get you to drink?”

  “Anything that will make me forget the sight of Krispy naked and getting pulled to a bedroom by his dick by that porn star.”

  “I don’t think there’s a drink strong enough to heal that scar,” Tracy said. “But let me see what I can come up with.”

  I sat at the bar as Tracy appeared to have to step around some Saints passed out behind the bar—that, or he was avoiding stepping on glass. He made me a drink with whiskey, making it just strong enough that I’d feel it but not strong enough to prevent me from driving home. He made himself a drink much stronger than that for himself, came back around the bar, and sat in the stool next to mine.

  “Cheers,” he said, holding his glass up with one hand and his other hand on my knee.

  “Cheers,” I said back.

  I still didn’t feel the greatest about being hit on and touched so publicly, but with the current state of everyone else in this clubhouse, there was a pretty good chance that people either wouldn’t notice, care, or remember anything that we did.

  “You look nervous,” Tracy said. “Why?”

  “I’m not one of these girls,” I said, looking around. “I have a white collar job, you know. It’s a bit out of my element.”

  “I know. But you’re with me. You’re OK.”

  “Really,” I said, although I had my eyes slanted at him in arousal when he said this.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I didn’t invite you out here for cookies and ice cream.”

  “Are those two of the porn stars here? Was your idea to have a foursome with me, Cookies, and Ice Cream?”

  “Haha! Clever!”

  I laughed with him, leaning forward on one elbow on the bar.

  “You know why I brought you here,” Tracy said.

  I thought of letting him get away with the subtle innuendo and the flirting. I thought of leaning forward and kissing him as he had kissed me before. I thought of letting myself go, honestly, to the extent that he and I would go back to the room.

  But the thought was just a thought and not an action for a reason. If I acted on every thought I had, I would never have the reputation to be a college student, let alone a doctor. I did find Tracy immensely attractive and seductive, but…

  I was not going to let the alcohol and the party atmosphere sway me. I’d only had a one-night stand once in college, and I wasn’t about to do that again, most especially with the successor of the Savage Saints to my father.

  “No, I don’t,” I said, playing dumb while playing with my hair. “Tell me, Tracy Cole. Why did you bring me here?”

  He chuckled a bit, took another sip of his drink, and looked me directly in the eyes. Nothing about him wavered, and the intensity of his gaze ensured that I wouldn’t be looking anywhere else either.

  “You want to know why I brought you here?” he said. “It’s because ever since you turned about sixteen, when you began blossoming into the woman you are now, I had my eyes on you. I wasn’t stupid enough to do anything then, not with your father around, but I always had an interest in you. When you went to school in New York, I just sort of accepted it for what it was, but I always wondered if I might get a chance with you again. You were, and are, ahead of your years, charmingly beautiful, and the kind of gal that makes me think ‘what else lies beneath the surface?’”

  Tracy may never have owned his intellect, but damn if he didn’t have a way with words when he wanted to with me.

  “After what happened a decade ago, I assumed you would never come back. I still thought about you, but I didn’t want to put any time back into it. But now that you’re here? You wanna know something, Jane? Look around you. Now look at my president’s patch. This, right here, means I could have any of that,” he said, pointing to all of the girls passed out. “At any time. I’m not saying that to brag. I’m saying that as a statement of fact. But you know what? That shit gets old. We all want our old lady, no matter how many of us act like we’d rather get porn star blowjobs in the backroom.”

  “You sure about that?” I had to interrupt. “Krispy might disagree!”

  “Krispy…”

  Tracy could only laugh and bow his head as he struggled to find a way to make Krispy fit into what he had said. It wasn’t an easy task.

  “OK, there might be an exception to every rule, and Krispy would be it. But the point is, Jane, you are someone whom I am very interested in. You have the beauty that goes beyond any of these girls—yes, I think you’re hot, and I think very many thoughts of you, but I think you have a beauty to you that is more elegant. You—”

  “Oh, shut up,” I said, having heard enough.

  I pulled him in close for a kiss, more than willing to do this now. I pressed my lips against his, rising out of my stool and somewhat straddling his legs. I wasn’t sitting in his
lap, but I could definitely have moved in if I wanted to. I threw my arms around him, pushing his mouth into mine, the heat in me rising.

  I was getting to that dangerous point where my emotions and my lust would soon overpower my decision making. If I didn’t watch myself, I could easily wind up in the bedroom with Tracy. Which… oh my God, just thinking about that…

  But then, he did something that got me to pull back.

  He slapped my ass and squeezed.

  That woke me up just enough that I pushed back, annoyed at the gesture—it felt designed to say, “I’m in charge and you’re going to do what I want.” Though I returned to a smile and a finger wag, I felt quite sure that he had noticed my displeasure with what he had done.

  “I’m not about to become another mama in your club,” I said. “I know what you want, but you can’t just fuck me with clothes on here.”

  “Jane—”

  “Nope,” I said, holding a finger up. I had to admit, if I didn’t care about my self-respect, I would have let my hormones and my lust push myself right back on him, copping my own kind of feel. There wasn’t any backing out now, though. “You want me? You have to earn me. Convince me to be your old lady, not one of your whores.”

  “Hey now—”

  “Nope,” I said, getting a kind of thrill out of having this much control and assertion of Tracy at the moment. “You have to earn me, Tracy. Show me that you actually like me and that I wasn’t just one of your booty calls.”

  Tracy wore a huge smirk on his face as if he found this all to be one big giant game. I did too—I just had a longer timeline for the “game” than he did. That, and I really did want him to prove that he wasn’t just in it for the quick hit and the bragging rights.

  “And how would I do that, Jane?”

  “I don’t know,” I said with an innocent shrug. “You’re a smart guy, Tracy. You know how to run this club. Surely, you know how to show a lady a good time, take her out, show her around town. You know, gentlemanly things?”

  He folded his arms, tilted his head to the side, almost spoke, and then snorted.

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?” he said, but the smile never faded.