Risky and Wild: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Bad Boys MC Trilogy Book 2)

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Risky and Wild: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Bad Boys MC Trilogy Book 2) Page 16

by Violet Blaze


  “Go the visitor's desk and have the nurse call security.” He holds out his good hand. “And give me the phone; I'm calling the police.”

  “You're not calling the cops,” I tell him, hoping that I'm betting on the right horse here. There's no way the hospital's got enough manpower to watch those security feeds twenty-four seven; nobody outside the club has to know about this. I glance back up at the round eye of the camera in the corner.

  “Who the hell else would we call?” he snaps as I take my cell out and give him my best no-nonsense look. It's never worked before, but hey, there's a first time for everything.

  “The Alpha Wolves,” I tell him and press send before he can stop me.

  I burst into the hospital like a bat out of hell, my boots loud against the polished linoleum floors.

  “Visiting hours …” the nurse starts as I flash her my best grin and toss her a two fingered salute.

  “Hey there, love. Beautiful evening, isn't it? I've got to see a lady about towing a car.” I continue on before she can get out another word. Everyone in town knows the Wolves have an auto repair shop. Can't get too much flak for picking up a customer, now can I?

  My heart is pounding behind my rib cage as I shove my way into Sully Rentz's hospital room, watching with grim satisfaction as he cringes away from me and clenches his jaw in anger.

  “Royal,” Lyric says, and I'm pleased to see her voice isn't near as angry as it was when she left the clubhouse. I pause in front of her, my chest tight, my fingers curling into fists. She looks so fucking perfect right now. I feel like I need to kiss that mouth, wrap that curvy body in my arms and pull her close. I want to protect her even though it's pretty damn obvious she doesn't need protecting.

  Instead, I flash her a grin and run some fingers through my hair.

  “You ran off the punk with your Glock? Color me impressed.”

  Lyric gives me a look that I can't seem to get a read on and takes a deep breath.

  “Like I said, he was dressed as an employee, even had a hospital badge with his name and face on it. Seems like it'd be safe to assume he really does work here. If your boys can't find him,” she continues, all businesslike and stern, “then I will. Wouldn't take much sleuthing to get to the bottom of this one.”

  She's trying not to look at me; that much is obvious. I'd love to continue our row from the clubhouse, get this crap figured out, but not in front of her asshole brother. This hurdle we have to jump, it's between me and my old lady.

  I nod my chin briskly and tuck my fingers in my back pockets. I've got a few guys patrolling the hospital's parking lot, canvassing the floors above and below this one. I'm damn near certain we won't be seeing this guy again, but at least we'll have a name and a face to keep an eye out for.

  “He was clearly here to kill Sully,” Lyric tells me, crossing her arms over her full chest. It's hard for me not to look, to appreciate, even with Sully scowling and muttering under his breath from his seat on the side of the hospital bed. Fucking twat. “I'm assuming this man is a member of Mile Wide?”

  I shrug my shoulders because honestly, I'm not all that sure about anything right now. It's likely the man that came into this room is yet another thug-for-hire asshole working for Clayton, but I'm not saying shit in front of Sully Rentz.

  I turn my gaze over to the man and he glares back at me.

  “Just because that man is gone doesn't mean there won't be another.” Lyric sucks in a deep breath and turns to face her brother, our arms brushing as we stand there like a unit. I wish I could be certain we were. But that fucking fight … bloody hell. No wonder I've never officially dated anyone before. It's murder on the soul. “You need to tell the FBI the truth,” she says, her voice low and emotionless. I'm not sure I like the sound of it, but her words … she's onboard with my plan? I don't know what to make of the situation.

  “What?” Sully asks, his attention still focused on me and not on his sister. “Are you crazy? Do you even hear yourself right now?”

  “Show some fucking respect, yeah?” I say as I give the guy my darkest look, crossing my arms over my chest to mimic Lyric's posture. “You're a lucky motherfucker, you know that? My boys wanted you dead, not hospitalized. Clearly, Mile Wide shares the same sentiment. You want to live? Close your damn trap.”

  Sully cringes, but he doesn't respond.

  “You're going to tell them that Brent dragged you into his business dealings with Mile Wide.” Lyric pauses and scrunches up that cute little face of hers. “Whatever those were …” She trails off and pulls her shoulders back. “What were you thinking, Sully? You're trying to make me out as the crazy person here. I wasn't the one taking dirty money from a motorcycle club.”

  “No, you were just fucking the president of one,” he snaps, and I move forward, grabbing that fractured right arm in my fingers as Sully bites down on a scream. His face is pale and sweaty, his chin trembling as he flicks his green eyes over to me.

  “Shut your goddamn mouth and answer your sister's questions. It's your bloody fault she's wrapped up in this in the first place.”

  “My fault?” Sully continues, proving the boy's not as smart as he looks. “The FBI's interested in her because of you. This is on your shoulders, not mine.” I jerk his arm to the side and clamp a hand over his mouth to stifle his scream.

  “If I were you,” I growl into his ear, “I'd quiet myself down before I decide to break your jaw and have the doctors wire it closed.” I release him and take a step back, satisfied by his pinched expression. “The only time I want to hear you talking is if you're answering your sister's questions.”

  “What were you doing with Mile Wide?” Lyric asks as I take my place beside her again. If she hadn't been packing, hadn't been prepared, tonight could've ended differently. I dig my fingers into my arms and try not to hate myself for wanting her so much. A real man would let her go, wouldn't he? Push her away to keep her out of danger? Shit.

  “Brent and I were greasing wheels to keep Mile Wide's product flowing, keep their members out of jail.” Sully sucks in a rattling breath, repeating information I've heard before. “We both have buddies in law enforcement in So Cal, in the Mendocino County DA's office …” He trails off again as Lyric clenches her teeth. “They were paying us to keep things running smoothly.” He shakes his head. “But it wasn't his idea to get involved—or even mine—it was that guy, Landon.”

  Sully's green eyes go wide and fly up to my face. As much as it kills me to hear this cocksucker speak my dead brother's name, it's the truth. The ugly, awful fucking truth. I nod my chin slightly, encouraging him to keep going. Maybe some of the boys wouldn't agree with this, maybe they'd think Lyric already knew too much, but this is my call. My fucking call.

  “Landon came to me,” Sully says, like that absolves him of all his culpability. “We'd bumped into each other a few times at the bar and,” he scrubs a hand down his face, “he just sort of talked me into it over time, told me it was no risk.” Sully scoffs and shakes his head.

  “And then you got greedy,” Lyric says and then pauses to correct herself. “Greedier. The two of you decided you'd hit up both Mile Wide and the Alpha Wolves?” Sully doesn't say anything in his own defense. “Somehow, Clayton Moore found out about it and had Brent killed.” Lyric stops talking and shakes her head, her short hair fluttering with the motion. “Jesus, Sully …”

  “If I go to the FBI with this, we'll lose everything. Me. You. Dad.”

  “Speaking of Dad,” Lyric starts as my mobile buzzes. It's a text from that prospect, Sketch, telling me that there's no sign of the gun wielding douche anywhere on the hospital premises. No surprise. I tuck my phone back in my pocket. “You said he knew about all of this. How? When?”

  Sully glances away and swallows hard.

  “From that night I came to talk to you about Brent,” he whispers, and his voice is so low it's practically impossible to hear. “Since Mom's birthday dinner.”

  “I can't … I just … no.” Lyric put
s up a hand and closes her eyes for a moment. “Sully, you're going to call Special Agent Shelley and tell her that Brent dragged you into all this with the promise of easy money.” She opens those green eyes of hers, putting an authoritative note into her voice that makes me shiver with need, hardens my cock into a painful pressure inside my jeans. Sully notices right away and he isn't happy about it. I toss him a smirk and a pair of raised brows as a challenge; he glances away. “You'll tell them that you both changed your mind and wanted out, that you were going to go to the authorities and Clayton found out about it. You'll also tell her that it was Mile Wide that did this to you.”

  Sully purses his lips tight, the mottled bruises on his jaw straining against the motion.

  “And how do you want me to account for the lies I've already told them?”

  “You're on a lot of painkillers, and you weren't thinking clearly. Tell them Mile Wide threatened the life of your family. I don't care.” Lyric sucks in a sharp breath and levels that gaze on her brother's face. “But come sunrise, that's what you're going to do.”

  Lyric pulls her gun from her purse and steps over to Sully, setting it on the edge of the bed next to him.

  “If that guy comes back …” she starts, a grim half-smile working its way onto her face. “Shoot him. And then call us.” She tosses a cell down next to the gun. “Let me know how it goes.”

  Without another word, Lyric turns on her heel and moves through the door, letting it slam shut behind her. I move to follow when the little douche decides to speak up suddenly.

  “If you hurt my sister,” Sully starts, looking up at me with blazing eyes as I glance over my shoulder at him. The coward that practically pissed himself when I confronted him with my hammer is gone, replaced with something that's almost akin to a man with bollocks. I recall vaguely the way he tried to defend his sister that night. Guess even this spineless coward can find a few vertebrae if he feels his family's being threatened. “You'll regret it.”

  I smile at him, but there's no warmth in it.

  “Yeah, I imagine I will,” I say as I turn around and lean forward, putting my hand on the metal railing at the end of the bed. “But I think it'll be Lyric exacting her own revenge. Your little sister's got a bigger pair than you, mate.”

  With a heavy pat on the shoulder, I leave a cringing Sully Rentz alone in his room and make my way downstairs to find Lyric. This uncertainty between us, it's killing me inside. And Dober? I feel like my new VP's about halfway ready to draft up a writ of impeachment and call a vote on my ass.

  “You waiting for me?” I ask when I find Lyric standing outside the automatic doors to the hospital. She's staring off into the distance, eyes half-hooded and liquid with her swirling thoughts. “You'll need another gun,” I say when she doesn't answer my question.

  “Your photo op with my father is tomorrow?”

  I nod and get out a cigarette.

  “Righto,” I say as I light up, watching her from the corner of my eye. This awkwardness with Lyric is making it difficult for me to focus on the important issues at hand. Mile Wide is getting desperate; they want their loose ends cleaned up. I sigh and turn my attention to the sky, to the swirls of orange and navy twisting together above the trees. “You're still up for that barbecue at Dober's this weekend, right?”

  “Jesus, Royal,” Lyric snaps, running her fingers through her hair and turning to face me. “Some guy almost shot my brother in the face today. He would've raped me, too, if he had the chance. And … I just told Sully to lie to the feds for you.”

  “For me? Seems like you were worried about that uptight little twat getting shot more than you cared about me getting dragged into some RICO charges.” I sound ticked off when I say it. And then I realize that I'm bloody furious. “Dober gave me a right ear-bashing after you walked out. The club's already on edge when it comes to you, Lyric. I'm fucking fighting for this.” I gesture between her and me, the space yawning and gaping like there's nothing in the world that could cross this cultural divide.

  “Oh?” she says, raising her eyebrows at me and putting a hand to her chest. “Maybe I should get on my knees and thank you for that, Mr. President. I'm a lucky, lucky girl to have the privilege of perching on your bike like a hood ornament.” I take a step closer to her, opening my mouth to argue, but she's not done yet. “I have ambitions and wants and desires, Royal. I'm not … I can't just be an old lady. That's not who I am.”

  “That's not what I want from you,” I yell back, fully aware that we're both raising our voices in a very public place. If Lyric wanted to keep our relationship secret, this is certainly not the way to go about it. “I thought I explained that pretty bloody clearly?”

  “What are you going to do then? Patch me in to the club? Teach me to ride? Give me a seat at the table, so I can talk shop with the boys?”

  I grit my teeth and turn away from her, running my fingers through my hair, the leather of my cut rustling with the movement. Above our heads, the lights flicker on for the evening, drawing clouds of white winged moths.

  “That's what I thought,” Lyric whispers quietly. “Look, Royal, I didn't want for any of this to happen. What I said on Sunday … even though it was stupid and childish and,” here she scoffs, “completely inappropriate … I meant it. But loving you isn't going to be enough—”

  I cut her off by whirling around and taking a few steps forward. This time, she doesn't move back, lifting her chin to look at me.

  “What did you just say?” I ask her, my body vibrating with the words. Loving you. If I haven't completely lost the plot, then that's what she said. Love. I hate how much I want it to be true. The boys would flay me alive. The fuck is wrong with me?

  “What? Nothing.” Lyric's flushing now, the color peeking out from under the collar of her white button-up. “I didn't say anything.” I lift my right hand up and run my fingers along the edge of her jaw, tracing the blush with my fingertips. Her entire body shudders and she turns away, pushing my hand back with a sigh. “Royal …”

  “You said it, Pint-Size. I heard it.”

  “It's not enough,” she growls, fierce as a wild wolf. My body responds to the sound with a little growl of my own. This is my mate right here, the alpha female to my alpha male. I stand up straight and run my tongue along my lower lip.

  “What's not? Say it again.”

  “No!” Lyric shouts, turning to face me, her breath coming in sharp gasps. “I won't. Because I'm done here. I'm not saying anything else, Royal. Good night.”

  When Lyric tries to walk away, I catch up to her, wrapping my fingers around her upper arm and drawing her back towards me. My breath feathers against her ear.

  “You don't much strike me as the type to give up because of some stupid argy-bargy.”

  “Argy-what?” Lyric asks, her brows going up as I spin her to face me. “Are you trying to … use your British on me?”

  “Is it working?” I sweep some hair behind her ear and lean in, putting my lips against Lyric's forehead. Her mouth twitches like she wants to smile, but manages to resist the urge.

  “Maybe.” A pause. “Why do you do that? Turn your accent on and off like that?”

  I raise my brows at her as I lean back, looking down so I can meet her eyes.

  “I never really thought about it.” I think for a moment, watching the play of light across Lyric's face, the way it highlights her full mouth, makes her green eyes gleam. “Since the day I moved here, since I was sixteen, I've been trying to fit in, to talk like everyone else.” I wet my lips carefully and Lyric follows the movement. “I suppose … when I'm around you, I relax.” I smile at her. “With few exceptions, I'm not trying to do it. It just comes out when you're around.” My smile turns into a grin. “So maybe you'd forgive me if I invited you over to my place for some tea … and a shag?”

  Lyric really does smile for a second there, but it doesn't last. After a moment she pulls away from me and turns, her slippers sliding against the pavement beneath our feet. On my
right, the automatic doors for the hospital open and an older couple spills out, giving me a wide berth.

  “You're charming,” she says and then shakes her head, giving me a sad smile over her shoulder. “But charming isn't enough, Royal. Love … isn't enough. If that's even what we have right now. We're from completely different worlds, different universes. What I want and the life you lead, they aren't compatible.”

  “You and me, love, that's about as compatible as anything ever gets.” I realize I'm still holding my cigarette and drop it to the ground, crushing it out with my boot. “What I'm trying to say is, I'm in love with you, Pint-Size.”

  I meet her gaze dead on.

  Lyric's face softens for a moment as she pauses to brush a moth away from her hair.

  “I—” she starts, pauses, takes a deep breath. I watch her standing there in the pool of white light from above our heads, the sounds of nightlife emerging from the curtain of darkness around the hospital. In that moment of silence, I can hear the ocean. “I love you, too, Royal,” she says and I feel a grin slide across my face as her green eyes flick up to mine. My heart's thundering in my chest and for a split second there, I'm not the president of the Alpha Wolves MC. For a second there, I'm just a man staring at the woman he's been waiting for his whole life. “But love doesn't change the rules in politics.” She pulls her gaze away as the automatic doors open and a pair of young nurses saunter by. “And it doesn't change the rules of the club.”

  When Lyric walks away, I let her get a head start and then follow after, tailing her home on my bike. I text Sketch the Prospect to meet me here in the morning and spend the rest of my night camping inside Lyric's living room.

  I'm not sure if I should be miffed about being locked out of the bedroom … or just bloody grateful that I was let in the front door at all.

  “Rise and shine, Mr. President,” Lyric says caustically, pulling apart the purple curtains and flooding the small living room with light. When I crack my eyes open, I find her standing there in a sexy arse little getup, some head to toe look in black. It's a right proper outfit, very classy, nothing at all like anything the groupies back at the clubhouse would wear.

 

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