MUERTO: Night Rebels Motorcycle Club (Night Rebels MC Romance Book 2)

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MUERTO: Night Rebels Motorcycle Club (Night Rebels MC Romance Book 2) Page 15

by Chiah Wilder


  She exhaled. “I’m scared. There I said it.”

  His head flinched back. “Scared? Of me?”

  Shaking her head vigorously, she squeezed his hand. “Not at all. I’m scared of me. I’m afraid I’ll lose who I am.” As his eyebrows squished together, she let go of his hand and swept her fingers over his forehead. “I guess I have some crap still left over from my relationship with Brent. I fell so hard and fast for him, that I let it consume me. It was like we lived in la-la land. Then when reality rang our doorbell, my cocoon split open, and I was shattered.”

  “Your world fell apart because you had an asshole in it. He lied and betrayed you. I’m not him. I live it straight. What you see is what you get. I don’t bullshit. You should know that about me.” He leaned back against the cushion.

  She smiled softly. “I do. You’re the only man I’ve ever met that tells it like it is and lives his life without any excuses. Actually, I really like that about you.”

  “And I fuckin’ love the way you hold your own. You’ve made a life for yourself. You’re a survivor, and I admire the hell out of you. No way would I hurt you, babe. No. Fucking. Way.”

  “I know that. I guess I’m freaking out because I’ve never felt such a pull to any man before. When I’d first met Brent, I was attracted to him, but it was nothing compared to what I feel with you.” She pulled out the elastic tie and her hair spilled past her shoulders. “Maybe that’s what scares the hell out of me. I’m terrified of losing myself to you. You probably don’t understand what I’m saying.”

  He laughed dryly. “I totally get what you’re sayin’. I never expected to want to spend time with a woman until I met you. I figured we’d have a short fling and I’d be on my way, but it’s not turning out that way. So the fuck what? I’m not asking you to give yourself up. We’re having a good time and we like each other. I’m just going with that. I thought you were too.”

  The sun streamed through the picture window, coloring the living room in a bright white glow, and, at that moment, he’d never cared for a woman as much as he did for her. It took him by surprise, but he wanted to spend more time with her and see where this thing they had took them. He leaned over and brushed her lips with his. “You were hurt by a fuckin’ jerk. Are you gonna let that keep you from living?”

  With glistening eyes, she flung her arms around him and nuzzled her face in his neck. “I’ve been so happy that it scared me. I do want to take a chance on you. I just freaked out. I needed some time to think.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “Next time that happens, don’t shut me out. I may not like what you say, but you gotta tell me when shit’s bothering you.”

  “I know. I’m used to dealing with stuff on my own.”

  “Now you’ve got me.”

  She nodded. “I’m working on opening up more. You’ll have to be patient with me.”

  He embraced her tightly. “I’ll be as patient as you need me to be. You’re so worth it, babe.”

  They held each for a long while, then Muerto’s stomach gurgling made her snicker and pull back. “Are you hungry? Do you want me to make you a sandwich?”

  He chuckled. “Not in a mood for one. Let’s go out and grab a bite.”

  “I’d rather stay home with you. We can order pizza and I can make a salad.” She kissed him softly on his lips then pulled away. “Sound good?”

  “Sounds great. Just so you know, I’m a triple pepperoni type of guy.”

  She laughed. “I guess I better order another one for me. Anyway, leftover pizza’s the best.” She whipped out her phone.

  Before she tapped in the number, he grasped her wrist. “Are we good now?”

  A wide smile broke over her face. “We’re very good.”

  As she placed their order, warmth spread through him. He was so taken with her that it blew his mind.

  Placing the phone down, she looked at him. “Beer or whiskey?”

  “You first then I’ll take a beer.” He lunged for her, pushing her down on the couch and tickling her sides.

  Between gasps for air, she blurted, “Stop.” Laughing she pushed against him, and he replaced the tickles with kisses on her face and neck.

  “When did they say the pizza would be here?” he whispered as he flicked her earlobe with his tongue.

  “Forty minutes,” she breathed.

  “I’m gonna give you the best forty minute fuck you’ve ever had, sweetie.”

  He kicked off his boots then turned his attention to her, his hands roaming over her curves as his mouth crashed down on hers.

  Chapter Nineteen

  A few days later, Muerto checked his phone just as Steel pounded the gavel on the wooden block. Looking up, he saw the sour look on the president’s face. Some shit’s not good. Muerto put his phone down and gave his full attention to the front of the room.

  “It’s been confirmed that underage girls are working at the Climax Lounge,” Steel said between gritted teeth. “What fucking sucks more than that is I know one of them. She’s a nice girl from the reservation. Her sister and Chenoa were friends. This girl is only sixteen.” He slammed his fist on the table. “We’re closing that fucking club down.”

  The members yelled their support, some of them cussing and pounding the tables with their fists. Brutus stood up, his face red from fury. “I know one of the girls stripping over there and she told me that the club’s actively recruiting younger girls so they can fuckin’ rip them off. They get paid half of what the regular women make. They’re using the girls in every way they can. Who owns this place?”

  Steel turned to Chains. “Did you find anything out?”

  Nodding, Chains stood up. “Satan’s Pistons are definitely involved. They—”

  Crow leapt up so fast his chair fell over, clanking on the linoleum floor. “I knew those fuckers were behind it. They’re such pieces of shit. I want to kick their asses so bad. We gotta get them outta our county. They’re like a goddamn disease, and they’ll keep spreading.”

  “I gotcha, but let Chains finish. I’m just as pissed as you are, but we need to get to the bottom of this so we can come up with a workable plan.”

  “Killing their asses works for me,” Crow fumed as he set the chair right and then sat down.

  Other members started yelling, “Death to Satan’s Pistons!” over and over until Steel had to slam the gavel down again.

  “Everyone shut the fuck up! We’re never going to get anything done.” Pausing while the brothers calmed down, he nodded at Chains. “Go on.”

  “Okay, so the Pistons are acting like they’re not a hundred percent involved. They have a strawman on all the paperwork, a gang from Pueblo called the—” He glanced down at a piece of paper he had in front of him. “—39th Street Gang. A bunch of wannabe gangsters. They basically extort from businesses in their area and do some loan sharking. They’re listed as the owners of the strip bar, but we know that’s a load of crap.”

  Muerto pushed his chair back from the table. “Sounds like they want to attach themselves to the Pistons to elevate their pathetic standing in the criminal world. Is Delarosa in on this, or is he just a dumb pawn?”

  “A dumb pawn. This dude has stupid written all over him.” Chains chuckled.

  “Seems like these 39th Street fucks want to kick their operations up a notch. They’re four hundred miles from here, and they don’t know what the hell’s going on,” Army said.

  “Satan’s Pistons are using their puny asses. They’ll get rid of them as soon as they don’t need them anymore. The Pistons have been wanting to control the Four Corners for a long time. They already got Arizona and Utah. Assholes.” Crow twisted the cap off his bottled water.

  “No way the Deadly Demons are gonna let the Pistons take that part of New Mexico. And I doubt that Banger’s gonna be on board with it,” Paco said. “I know we’re not letting them into our county.”

  “Fuck no!” Diablo yelled, and then the other brothers began talking, yelling, and cussing up a sto
rm.

  Muerto’s phone pinged. He glanced down and smiled. A text from Raven always made him smile.

  Raven: Whatcha doing?

  Muerto: Church. U?

  Raven: Thinking bout how I want ur soft lips on mine. Mmmm….

  Muerto sucked in his breath. All around him the brothers were still talking about what they were going to do to Satan’s Pistons.

  Muerto: Send me a pic of u. Surprise me.

  “We gotta make sure the Pistons know we mean business. Have you told Banger ’bout the fuckers setting up a business without Insurgents permission?” Muerto asked.

  “I’m going to, and I’m sure we’ll hear his response all the way from Pinewood Springs.” Steel chuckled.

  A ping. Putting the phone under the table, Muerto opened the message, his mouth going dry when he saw her delicate hand and her index finger extended. On the end of her finger was a tiny, lacey pair of red panties. Fuck. He couldn’t move his eyes away. Another ping. Hurriedly, he opened it. A matching red bra with a tiny pink bow strewn over the bed made him adjust his jeans as he moved around in his seat. Double fuck. There was something about this woman that made his body respond like wildfire.

  As he started to reply, another ping.

  Raven: Wish u were here.

  Muerto: Me 2. Ur driving me crazy, baby.

  Raven: Don’t mean 2.

  Muerto: BS, but I love it. Can’t wait 2 see u.

  Raven: We’ll have some fun. ;)

  “Is church interfering with your phone time?” Steel’s hard voice broke through the lustful haze Muerto was in since he’d started texting.

  Muerto: Gotta go. Later.

  Slipping his phone in his pocket, he looked at the president. “Sorry. I got something going here.” That’s ambiguous enough.

  “Like sexting your latest squeeze?” Goldie wiggled his eyebrows and the brothers roared. Eagle, Army, and Cue Ball made kissing noises while Brutus and Skull simulated hard fucking sounds.

  Muerto glared until Steel hit the gavel for the third time, a smile on his face. “Keep your private time outta church.” Picking up a 7-Up, he drank deeply, then scanned the members. “We’re gonna shut these fuckers down. No MC puts a business in our territory, and no strip bar on our turf hires underage strippers.”

  “I say we blow their fuckin’ club up,” Army said. Several members voiced their agreement.

  “I was leaning in that direction,” Steel replied.

  “We gotta do it soon,” Paco said.

  “Are the badges gonna leave us be?” Skull asked.

  “Wexler practically gave us carte blanche,” Muerto said. “We need to teach Satan’s Pistons that they can’t mess with us. The fuckers knew exactly what they were doing, and having a phony group of wannabe gangsters on all the paperwork is such a crock of shit that it’s insulting.” He shook his head. “I vote we torch the place.”

  Paco put up his hands as the brothers excitedly agreed with Muerto. “I think we know how this is going, but we gotta take a vote. All in favor of blowing up the damn bar say ‘Aye.’”

  A thunderous boom of “Ayes” filled the meeting room.

  “All opposed say ‘Nay.’” Paco waited for a couple of seconds. “It’s unanimous. We’re gonna torch the damn place.”

  Amid the applause, Steel pounded the gavel many times until some quiet was had. “We move fast on this. Army, I’m putting you in charge of the operation. Pick a few brothers to be on your team. Any questions?” Army shook his head. “Good. That wraps it up. Go relax and have a few beers. We’ve got a hellish week coming up.” Steel hit the gavel on the block, adjourning church.

  In the main room, Muerto ambled to the bar, grateful for the double shot of Jack that waited for him. The cool liquid went down real smooth, lighting his throat with the type of fire that warmed a person all over.

  “You’ve been gone the past several nights,” Goldie said as he sidled up to a barstool.

  Muerto shrugged and took another gulp of whiskey.

  “Where you been stayin’?” Skull asked as he grabbed the beer the prospect handed to him.

  “How’s this your fuckin’ business?” Muerto growled. He wanted to look at the pictures Raven had sent him again, but he didn’t dare chance it. The brothers would have a heyday with that, and he didn’t want them to disrespect Raven that way.

  “He likes the woman. I’m with Muerto on this,” Diablo’s deep voice fell over them.

  Muerto jerked his chin at him, surprised the sergeant-at-arms threw in his two cents. Normally, Diablo minded his own business and didn’t get involved in any drama about the women the brothers fucked. Muerto rarely saw him with any of the club girls, and never with a hang-around. He rarely shared any information about himself; all Muerto knew for a fact was that the big guy was from Salt Lake City.

  “He likes a lot of women,” Chains said, and the brothers around him laughed.

  “Don’t we all?” Crow chuckled.

  “Yeah, but our brother here”—Chains lightly tapped Muerto’s shoulder—“isn’t the type of guy who goes out with a chick for more than a night or two. And he never stays the night.”

  “Is she teaching you some pool tips? Are you in training to be a hustler?” Eagle had come over and joined in on the ribbing.

  “I’m hangin’ with her. What’s the big deal? Can’t you losers get anyone but the club girls?” He motioned for another whiskey.

  “I could beat her ass any day in a pool game,” Army said as he leaned against the bar.

  Crow shook his head. “I don’t think you could. I’ve seen her play and she’s damn good.”

  “Bullshit.” Army looked at Muerto. “Tell her that I challenge her to a game. She may be too scared, but the challenge is on the table.”

  “I’m with Crow on this one. Raven’s a badass player. I don’t want any shit when you lose.”

  “No worries, bro, ’cause I’m not planning to lose. I can beat her hands-down. She’s a bitch, for fuck’s sake.”

  Before Muerto could respond, Paco came over. “I overheard about the pool game. I’m cool with it, but it can’t be at Balls and Holes. You know we don’t mix business with personal shit. If you want to play against Muerto’s chick, don’t do it at the pool hall.”

  “We could do it here,” Goldie said.

  Muerto smiled inwardly. This is exactly what she wanted. “I’ll ask her if she wants to do it, but no problems when you lose.”

  “I’m not going to lose.” Army guzzled the rest of his beer.

  “Who wants to place bets on the pool game between Muerto’s pool shark and Army?” Goldie announced in a loud voice. The rest of the brothers came over and started placing their bets. “Call her. See if she wants to accept the challenge. If so, the game is tonight at eight.”

  “Okay.” Muerto took out his phone and sent a text to Raven.

  Muerto: R u a witch? Army’s challenging u to a game. Just what u wanted.

  Raven: Yessss! I’ve been called a bitch but never a witch. Ur funny. :)

  Muerto: Well… u cast a spell over me, & now the game….

  Raven: ;) When’s the game?

  Muerto: Tonight if ur good.

  Raven: Oh yea. Tell him to bring it on. Time?

  Muerto: 8 good? Come over. Want 2 see u. I can pick u up.

  Raven: U just want 2 see my bra & panties.

  Muerto: True… & what’s inside them.

  Raven: hehe. I’ll come on my own. See u at 7ish. Gives us time 2 talk b4 the game. ♥

  Staring at the heart, a funny feeling rode up his spine. Raven did something to him, made him feel things he’d never experienced before. Touchy-feely shit that women loved to talk about. And he didn’t feel like a pussy; it was just good. Real fucking good.

  “So, is she in?” Army’s voice brought him back to the clubhouse.

  “Yeah.”

  “The game’ll be at eight. Hope she can cover the loss.” Army grabbed a handful of pretzels from a bowl on the bar.
>
  “If she can’t, Muerto will, right, dude?” Crow asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you tell her she can’t bring her own cue stick or cue ball?” Army said while chewing.

  “She knows. She’s a pro, dude.” Muerto drained his shot glass.

  “We’ll see.” Army looked over Jigger’s head. “Hey, Kelly, get your ass over here. I need some good fucking before the game. Bring Fina with you. I’m feeling real lucky tonight.” He laughed and swung his arm around Kelly when she came over. “Let’s go to my room,” he said as Kelly giggled. They walked off and Fina joined them, hooking her arm around his waist as the trio disappeared from the room.

  “I almost wish Raven would beat his ass tonight. It’d bring the cocky bastard down a few notches,” Crow said in a low voice. Muerto nodded, hoping the same thing.

  * * *

  A little before six, Muerto sat on a barstool, munching on spicy chips—potato chips coated in chili powder—adrenaline surging through him. He couldn’t wait to see Raven. Even though he’d seen her that morning, he missed her and wanted to wrap her in his arms and breathe her heady scent.

  When she walked in, he almost jumped out of his skin. Her skinny jeans looked like she’d painted them on, and the scoop-neck top revealed some serious cleavage that made him want to dip his tongue down into it and taste her salty skin. Four-inch heels—how the hell does she walk in those?—long, flowing hair, and some kickass, sexy makeup made his dick wake way the hell up.

  He jumped off the barstool and made his way to her. The room was quiet except for the drone of voices on the TV. All eyes were on her, and from the way she curled a strand of hair around her finger, he knew she was nervous. Looking around, he noticed the only one smiling at her was Crow, all the other brothers either stone-faced or slightly perturbed. The club women crinkled their noses as they checked her out.

  “Hey, sweetie,” he said as he brushed his lips across hers. “Let’s have a drink.” The tension in her face slacked a bit as she grabbed his hand and followed him to the bar. He picked her up and plopped her on a barstool, ordering a whiskey sour from the prospect.

 

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