Inferno Glory MC

by Jennifer Ann

  “Tired of people lookin’ at me like I’m helpless,” he admits with a scowl. He kisses the corner of my mouth. “Especially you.”

  “May as well get used to it, baby, because you’re getting more than just an old lady,” I tease, setting the helmet on his head. “I asked Remmy to make me an honorary member.”

  “Honorary member, eh?” A boyish grin pulls at his lips. “You realize you just called yourself my old lady?”

  I roll my eyes as I fasten the snap beneath his chin, but I’m unable to resist matching his grin. The label feels pretty damn good, despite the reserves I had before. “Didn’t say I was your old lady.” Then reality comes crashing into my chest like a wrecking ball and I’m all at once somber. “You’re not a real member of the MC anyway, so the label won’t stick.”

  “In their eyes I am,” he argues with a shake of his head. “I came to the club with a military background and a bike I’d been drivin’ for years. I did everything the other guys went through. I was even a prospect for a time. On paper, I’m legit. The ATF hid all records of my trainin’.”

  Feeling a new surge of anger, I start to back away. “Except you’re pretending to be someone you’re not. You’re lying to them.”

  He reels me back in until I’m wedged between his legs. “You’re wrong about that, darlin’. You might think as an agent that I should walk around with a stick up my ass and wear a suit, but this is the real deal. Take away the badge, and this is who I am.”

  As he nuzzles my neck, his warm breath on my skin sets me on fire. “What you’re gettin’ is all me. My job is the only thing I have to hide, and I was serious when I said I was thinkin’ of givin’ it up.” Warm lips brush over my skin, stirring up a new wave of desire inside my belly. “Whatever it takes for us to be together.”

  “First nail my asshole brother, then we’ll talk about whether or not we have a future together,” I say with a tight breath, pushing him away. I take a hair tie from my pocket and slick my hair back into a low ponytail. “Now sit on the back like a good boy, and hold me with the arm that isn’t burning. I know SEALs are tough as nails, but the damn thing won’t heal if you don’t let it rest.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he answers smartly, flipping a leg over his bike.

  I settle in front of him, only slightly put off by the different feel of his Harley. It’s much heavier than my Sportster, but this isn’t my first rodeo. There were more nights than I could count when Jawa had too much to drink, forcing me to pilot his Super Glide. Colt’s Heritage doesn’t feel all that different from Jawa’s, from what I can remember.

  Colt’s arm slips around me as I start the bike and roar out of the quiet neighborhood. Part of me wants to parade all around the city so everyone can see him riding bitch and knock him down a notch. Most of the guys at the MC wouldn’t be caught dead riding behind a woman.

  As we ride, his warm breaths against my neck aren’t half as distracting as his wandering hand. I’ve fooled around on bikes more than just the one time on the beach with Colt, but never while in motion. It’s so damn hot that I swear I’ll drive straight into the grassy hills framing the road.

  By the time we’re on the quiet highway, illuminated by the high beams of a car behind us, Colt’s hand is past the button on my jeans, and his fingers work their way beneath my underwear.

  “Jesus,” I hiss, glancing at the mirror.

  “Don’t tell me you’re gonna be a prude now after askin’ me to fuck you in front of a stranger,” Colt teases in my ear.

  “That damn car has been getting closer the last few minutes. If I have to brake, he’ll be up our ass.”

  Colt glances over his shoulder. “Speed up.”

  “Can’t afford a traffic violation right now,” I remind him. “My PO would have my ass.”

  “Then slow down after this hill, and give ‘im a chance to pass.”

  I squeeze the throttle a bit more until we’re over the swell of the hill. Just as I’m preparing to let up so the car can pass, he’s right on our ass, close enough for Colt to reach out and touch. The car stays in place with no signs of passing.

  “Motherfucker!” Colt yells, twisting around to wave the guy off.

  “You’re just gonna piss him off,” I growl, squeezing the throttle tighter. “I’ll speed up just until we get to the next turn.”

  The bike sputters beneath us as I hit 80 mph. Ten miles over the speed limit would make for a hefty fine, but there’s a sickening feeling settling in my chest that the car has no intention of letting up. My suspicions are confirmed when the car matches my new speed, getting close enough for both of us to yell out at the same time.

  “Screw probation!” Colt growls, squeezing his arm around my waist. “Smoke his ass before we’re splattered across the asphalt!”

  Adrenaline races through my veins as I increase speed, watching the odometer climb past 90. The car doesn’t let up and neither do I. Visions of being charged with attempted manslaughter make it hard to breathe as our speed tops 100. We come across a car and I maneuver through the other lane, barely avoiding an oncoming truck. They lay on their horn a beat later. The loud blast explodes inside my chest.

  “Did we lose them?” I pant, too afraid to look for myself.

  Colt glances into the mirror and over his shoulder. “I think so.”

  With uneven breaths, I begin to slow the bike. As it backs down to 70, I notice my hands are trembling. I’ve dropped my bike a few times, but never hit anything. We were so fucking close to nailing that oncoming truck.

  Colt gently pokes my side. “Turn comin’ up.”

  Nodding, I check over my shoulder before flipping the blinker and turning into the corner. The deafening roar of an engine comes from behind before arms crush me in a protective barrier, holding me to the bike as we catapult off the road and directly toward a hill. Aside from the smell of burning rubber and the scream ripping from my throat, everything becomes a confusing blur of pain and abundant terror.

  I’m never going to see Colt’s beautiful blue eyes again.

  There’s a sharp pain on my forehead, and blackness takes over.

  32

  The unmistakable stench of antiseptic burns through my nose when I try to take a breath. Machines beeping around me confirm what I had already guessed before I open my eyes to a stark, dimly-lit room. I crashed Colt’s bike.

  Outside a set of windows on the far ends of the room, the sky’s still dark. How long was I out? More importantly, what happened to Colt?

  “Colt?” I cry, starting with the tug of an IV in my arm. I look down to see a plastic contraption hooked to my index finger. Either my riding jacket is worth every penny that was paid, or Colt took the brunt of the accident when he wrapped himself around me. My arms are free of abrasions. Even my tanned legs sticking out of the atrocious hospital gown are free and clear of scratches.

  On quick assessment, it seems my body is intact—though black and blue—and everything moves as it should when I wiggle. There’s a dull thud in my forehead and my fingers find a bandage near my hairline. I’m lucky a cut is the only injury to my head since I wasn’t wearing a helmet.

  I rip the IV from my arm and pull the clamp from my finger, setting off an alarm on the machines. When I jump off the bed, blinding pain shoots through my right thigh and hip, dropping me to the hard floor.

  “Shit!” a woman yells from the doorway. “I need some help in here!” she calls into the hallway. The alarm beside the bed stops, and there’s movement all around me. I’m busy cursing myself for being weak when two sets of hands hook underneath my armpits. Two middle-aged nurses in pale pink uniforms help me back to the bed.

  “You’re okay, sweetie,” the older of the two tells me. She’s as round as she is tall, and profusely sweaty. The room fills with the rank stench of her body odor. “You shouldn’t be walking yet is all. You’re pretty beat up.”

  I grab her arm, ready to crawl the fuck out of the room if that’s what it will take. “Where’s Colt? The guy I
was with?”

  The two women exchange an unsure glance. Pulling in a sharp breath, I’m hit with a wave of nausea when I assume the worst. They’re afraid to tell me he’s dead.

  “You should wait to talk to the admitting ER doctor,” the stinky nurse answers. “He should be by any minute to check in on you.”

  “Tell me he’s okay!” I plead, squeezing her fleshy arm. A wall of tears blur my vision as my breaths quicken. “Please!”

  “He took off,” the younger nurse blurts. Her oversized brown eyes flicker between me and the other nurse. “As soon as the doctor assured him you didn’t have any serious injuries, your boyfriend ran out of the ER like he was on fire. Even knocked a few people down on the way. He wouldn’t stay to talk to the cops or let the doctor check him over for injuries. He was cradling his arm somethin’ awful and covered in blood, but I think a lot of it was from the cut in your head. Everyone in the ER’s saying it’s a miracle you walked away from the crash without a head injury. Your boyfriend saved your life.”

  I blow out a long breath with the good news, though somewhat miffed he didn’t stick around until I was awake, and a little bit baffled why he’d run out of here so quickly. “Where’s my phone?”

  “I think the cops took it as evidence,” the doe-eyed nurse answers, twisting the ends of her blond ponytail around her fingers. “Probably to check to see if you were texting when it happened. That’s pretty much standard procedure these days.”

  The stinky nurse grunts, giving her coworker a warning glare. “Enough, Ana. You’ve already told her more than you should.” Then she turns back to me, smiling in a motherly way. “Anyone we can call for you, hon?”

  “Don’t have anyone’s numbers memorized,” I mumble as the doe-eyed nurse works on hooking me back up to the machines.

  “I’ll get the doctor,” the stinky nurse says, patting my arm. As she passes through the doorway, she’s almost bowled over by a wild-eyed Kandi wearing leopard leggings and a striped shirt. Between the mismatched outfit and messy hair, it seems she got ready to come here in the dark. Both hands slap over her mouth when she sees me.

  “I can’t look as bad as you,” I say, frowning at my fashion disaster of a friend.

  “You’re in one piece!” she cries, running to the bed. I let her hug me because I know it’s what she probably needs to calm down. Even though she’s gentle, my bruised body still aches with the contact. She backs away, brushing a strand of my hair away from my face. “I was scared outta my fuckin’ mind when Colt called. He was babbling about a car and an accident on his bike. Didn’t slow down long enough for me to ask if you were even okay. He told me to come here for you because he was going after the asshole that hit you.”

  “He knows who was driving the car?” I ask. It’s more of a question to myself. Was Colt conscious after the accident and saw who was behind the wheel? Was the driver brought to the hospital too? Would the cops have shared the driver’s identity with an undercover ATF agent?

  “I don’t know,” Kandi answers, dark hair dusting over her shoulders as her head shakes. “But he was practically screaming when he asked if I knew where your brother was, so he must’ve been looking for backup. I thought it was strange he’d take Lucky, but maybe he couldn’t get a hold of Ranger.”

  An icy chill fills my veins as I piece it all together. Colt thinks my brother did this. If that motherfucker tried to kill me, his own sister, along with the man I love, he’s not just going to have Colt after his sorry ass.

  I suppose he has every reason to believe such a thing with all we know about Axel. And killing me would probably be less work for Axel than sending me back to prison. Regardless, Colt could potentially blow his cover and ruin the chances of putting my brother away by executing revenge. Why couldn’t he just leave it up to the cops?

  “I have to find him,” I say, meeting Kandi’s confused gaze. “There’s more to this that I really can’t get into, but we have to stop Colt from finding my brother. It could end really badly.”

  Though Kandi still looks confused, she nods and moves in to help me to my feet. “Sure, kid.”

  “Nuh-uh,” the doe-eyed nurse tells me, pressing lightly on my shoulder. “You have to wait for the doctor.”

  Kandi gently pulls her off me. “Sorry, sister, but some things can’t wait.”

  “You’re in too much pain to walk,” the nurse insists, backing away from Kandi.

  “Then round us up a wheelchair as fast as you can,” I say. “Get me some clothes while you’re at it. We don’t have time to waste!”

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Kandi asks the moment the woman has left the room. “You should rest. No offense, but you look like shit.”

  “Call Buzz and Ranger, tell them to find Colt. I’m probably the only one who can talk him down right now, but they can at least occupy him until we get my crippled ass there. Then text Colt, and tell him I’m freaking out at the hospital because I know where he’s going. Make it sound like I’m incoherent and blabbing on about secrets.”

  Eyes narrowed on me, she pulls out her phone and hits the screen. “What’s going on, Harley?”

  I shake my head. “You’re going to have to trust me.”

  After I’m dressed in doctor’s scrubs and wheeled out to Kandi’s Honda, we head to the clubhouse to find flashing lights of several sheriff’s cars filling the parking lot, cutting through the dark sky in a surreal pattern.

  “What the fuck?” I say. A delayed moment later, I realize there’s an ambulance in the mix. Oh God.

  Kandi yells something as I reach for the handle to my door and jump out while the car is still in motion. Though I’m still incredibly weak and filled with shooting pain, I stumble toward the clubhouse. A set of sheriff’s deputies turn when they see me approaching.

  “You can’t go in, ma’am,” one with freakishly thick eyebrows says.

  “Who’s hurt?” I ask, trying to push past regardless. “What’s going on in there?”

  Kandi appears behind me, setting her hand on my back. “We both belong to this club,” she tells the men in a no-nonsense tone. “Our men could be in there.”

  “I’m sorry,” the deputy tells her, “but—”

  Ranger emerges from the clubhouse door, stopping all at once when he sees me. His eyes are red-rimmed and his body language is hesitant. My stomach clenches. Something is terribly wrong. “How’d you get out already?”

  “Seriously? No one can tell her what to do,” Kandi answers with a tight laugh.

  I push past the deputies to rush at Ranger, clutching his vest in my hands. “Who’s hurt? Is it Colt?”

  A flash of anger stirs in his eyes. “You shouldn’t be here. Kandi, take her back to Colt’s place. Now.”

  “Yeah, okay,” Kandi agrees in a tight voice. She touches my back. “C’mon, sweetie.”

  “I’m not fucking leaving until you tell me why the cops are here!” I insist, slapping Kandi’s hand away. “Where’s Colt? What’s happening?”

  The door behind Ranger swings open, and two deputies emerge, one guiding a somber-faced Colt. His hands are cuffed behind him.

  All at once I picture Axel laying dead inside the clubhouse and tighten my hold on Ranger’s vest. Son of a bitch! Why would he throw away our future together when he was so close to putting my brother behind bars the right way?

  Sky blue eyes widen on me. “Harley,” Colt coos. His eyelids close as he tilts his head back for a brief moment. A sad smile plays on his lips when our gazes lock again. “Why aren’t you in the hospital, darlin’?”

  Where else would I be when the love of my life ups and leaves me without an explanation? I run to him, cradling his stubbled jaw in my hands. “What’s going on? Why are they arresting you? What did you do?”

  “Don’t matter. It’s just a misunderstandin’. It’ll all be sorted out by tomorrow.” Eyes hardening, he adds, “You know you can trust me, right?”

  I nod before standing on my tip toes to kiss him. Whatever may
have happened inside, Colt only did it to protect me. Even though it feels like blindly jumping off a ledge, I’m finally ready to trust again.

  “I love you, darlin’,” Colt reminds me when our lips separate.

  “I love you too,” I whisper.

  “Time to go,” one of the deputies grumbles, pulling Colt away.

  Colt’s beautiful eyes don’t leave mine as the officers help him lower into the back of a squad card. Kandi’s arms enclose around me as we watch the car pull away. “You should sit down, sweetie.”

  “Not until I find out what’s going on.” I turn to Ranger, scowling. “Tell me or I’m going in there myself! Don’t make me fight you when I’m already busted up!”

  Wetting his lips, Ranger’s reluctant gaze passes over Kandi before settling on me. “Remmy’s dead.”

  33

  For as long as I live, I’ll never forget the day I was taken down to the warden’s office and told my father had died in the night. Little compassion could be found in the old bitch’s eyes as she spoke, and I swear she felt some sort of twisted pleasure in delivering the news. I wouldn’t let her get to me though, and held my head high as I nodded. Until the lights went out that night, I was able to hold it together and appear unaffected.

  With the news of Remmy’s death, however, I’m no longer plagued with the need to appear tough, and the sympathy filling Ranger’s brown eyes nearly sends me to my knees. “No!” I cry out, collapsing the minute his arms lock around me.

  I hear Kandi choke out a startled cry a second before her slim fingers wrap around my arm. Tears rush out of me like a waterfall after a heavy rain, too plentiful to be stopped. Damn it all if the cops, Ranger, and Kandi see me as weak, but I’m past appearances and this is too great of a blow to mask. Losing the only other man I saw as a type of father figure is simply too much to bear.

  Bits of the last conversation we had in his office swirl through my mind. Things between us had just turned around. Our relationship wasn’t anywhere near what it was when I was a girl, but it was on its way to being rebuilt. Our chance to improve on it has been prematurely ripped away.