by Melinda Minx
The raid I’m running point on is a rival MC’s meth lab. We got a guy on the inside who figured out where it is, and we know when it should be left mostly undefended. Blowing up a meth lab is easy, as meth tends to explode with even a wee bit of encouragement. But the stealthy part of the raid is to sabotage the place without blowing it up. Exploding meth labs bring heat onto all the MCs, and that is never good.
“Shit, man, I’d like to stick my dick in that!”
I look at Rigg, and he’s staring wide-eyed, mouth agape. I look over at the door, and I see Joanna.
The sundress is gone, but the shirt she’s wearing shows even more of those amazing tits than the dress did. I can see the full plunge of her cleavage, and the flesh of her tits bounces as she walks. My eyes sink down, and lock on the sway of her hips in her tight-ass, fuck-me jeans.
I fight to keep my jaw from hanging slack like Rigg, but there’s nothing I can do to stop my cock from getting stiff and pushing against my jeans.
Joanna’s eyes move up and lock with mine, and she stops walking when she sees me.
“Stone…” she says.
I move toward her as if I’m magnetized toward her curves. “You couldn’t wait to see me again? How’d you even know I was here?”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m not here for you. I work here.”
Now my jaw does drop. “You gave up everything and moved out to Phoenix to work at the fucking Chrome Hog? Are you shitting me?”
“What?” she says, flashing me a smile that makes me just want to grab her and take her right now on top of the pool table. “You think a girl like me can’t handle a place like this?”
Yes. That’s exactly what I think. Already Rigg is horn-balling on her, just wait until some asshole like Lenk gets here. And that fucking outfit...it won’t be easy to protect her from my own fucking MC. Though if it comes down to it, I will.
“Look,” I say in a low voice. “Best pretend we aren’t so close, or you’ll become a target.”
She locks eyes on me and grins. “We aren’t that close. You gave me a ride--”
I flash her a cocky smirk. “The offer’s still open, by the way. If you want to ride dirty--”
“Stone,” she says. “Can you tell me something...I was reading Wikipedia, and I don’t quite understand the whole ‘MC’ thing.”
“Wicky what?” I ask, arching an eyebrow at her.
“Just tell me what do you guys do?” she asks. “I need to--”
“The less you know the better,” I say, interrupting her. “You don’t need to know shit, alright? You pour drinks, and you smile, and you don’t let them fucking touch you.”
She gives me a dismissive look. “Oh, so I should ride dirty with you, but I shouldn’t let any of the other biker scum touch me? You’re different somehow?”
Shit. She got me there. I’m better than Lenk or Remmy, that’s for damn sure, but it’s not like I’m a saint. A lot of decent guys are in the MC, decent guys doing bad shit.
I look down at her body and her perfect, frustrated face. I shake my head. How can I tell her that it’s fucking stupid to get involved with a guy like me, unless it’s me specifically? If I tell her to stay away from bikers, then I’m telling her to stay away from me.
“Just keep your guard up,” I say. “And I’ll keep an eye on you.”
She sighs. “I don’t need you babysitting me.”
“Stone!” Chuck shouts from behind the bar. “Is that my new bartender? At least wait until she’s behind the bar to start giving her a hard time!”
“Yeah, Stone, stop giving me such a hard time,” Joanna says sarcastically, but the way those brown eyes run across my body tells me she does want me to give her a hard time. And I’m already rock hard.
Joanna walks to the bar, and my eyes sink down to see that beautiful ass and those irresistible hips move back and forth as she walks. She extends a hand out over the bar and shakes Chuck’s hand. “I’m Joanna.”
“Chuck,” he grunts. “Welcome to the Chrome Hog.”
I’m still staring at her when Rigg elbows my ribs. “You know her?”
I look down at him. “Keep away from her.”
Rigg grins wide. “Damn man, you going soft for a girl?”
I glare down at him. My cock is still semi-hard in my pants from seeing Joanna again. I’m not getting soft. “Just keep your hands off her, alright? You’re twice her age.”
Rigg opens his mouth to say something, but my body tightens, like a wild animal ready to strike, and he shuts his mouth.
I nod at him.
Rigg is one thing. He’ll listen to me and keep his greasy-ass hands off Joanna, but the rest of the MC? I’ll have to make her mine. It’s what I wanted to do anyway, but now it’s the only way I can protect her.
The door swings open, and Lenk walks in chest first. Just behind him is Tank and Luger--those two are always with him. Lenk is almost as tall as me, and his tattoos are threatening to swallow his face. They reach up to his neck but stop just short of his chin. Tank is--well--a tank. He can barely fit his shoulders through the door, and when he rides a bike he reminds me of one of those circus bears riding a moped. Luger named himself after the pistols the Nazis used in World War II. He claims he’s not a Nazi himself; he just admires the cool efficiency of that particular gun, which never breaks down or jams even when covered in blood and filth.
Lenk is my main rival, and Tank and Luger are his weapons. If I can take out Lenk, his sidekicks will fall with him. Neither of them has what it takes to lead, though they are scary when wielded by someone cunning like Lenk.
“Stone,” Lenk rasps at me.
“Yeah?” I stand up straight and cross my arms.
“Heard you’re running point tomorrow. We need to coordinate.”
“What for?” I ask. “Remmy said I should choose my own crew. I didn’t choose you.”
Lenk lets out a dry laugh and glares at me. “My crew is still going with you.”
“Remmy said to make it stealthy. It won’t be stealthy with fucking Tank barreling around.”
“Your squad goes in,” Lenk says. “Mine stands watch.”
I narrow my eyes at him, and Tank and Luger stare me down as well.
“I think me and my crew are good alone,” I say. “I’d rather you--”
Lenk takes a large stride forward and gets up in my face. “You’d rather? Don’t matter what you want. Remmy calls the shots--for now--and he wants me standing watch. So let’s get along, yeah?”
He says ‘get along’ with a biting viciousness seeping into his voice, but I decide not to take the bait.
“Alright, Lenk. Sounds good.”
I grab my drink and chug it down, not breaking eye contact with him.
He pulls a gun out of his waist and cocks it. “Give me the thing, Luger.”
Luger hands him a long tube: a silencer. Lenk screws the silencer onto the gun then takes aim at the door.
He fires a shot.
Chuck shouts out across the bar, “Did you just fire a fucking gun at my door, Lenk?”
“You didn’t even hear it!” Lenk shouts back. “See, Stone, I can be real stealthy. Give her a try.”
Holding the gun by the barrel, he shoves it into my hands. I’ve gotta admit I want to give it a shot.
I raise it to the door.
“Stone!” Chuck’s voice booms. “If you fire that thing at the door, I’m kicking your ass out and banning you for a month.”
I laugh and lower the gun. “Fuck it, here you go.” I hand the gun back to Lenk, and he grabs it by the barrel, then shoves it into a bag.
“Tank, Luger,” Lenk snaps. “Let’s get some drinks.”
Then I see his eyes move up and lock on Joanna. His tongue slithers out of his mouth and snakes across his lips. “I’m thirsty.”
I clench my fists and my jaw as Lenk approaches the bar.
Rigg grabs my arm. “Don’t fuck with him now, man.”
“When do I fuck with him?” I say in
a low whisper. “It’s only a matter of time until he makes his move on me.”
When my pops was still president, I was basically lined up to take his place. Everyone saw the potential in me, but my pops was shot down when I was barely 20, and there were still too many old timers around to vote me in. Remmy’s a dick, but he mostly knows what he’s doing. His biggest blind spot though is Lenk. Lenk is vicious, but he causes more trouble than he’s worth. And for Lenk, I’m still the biggest threat toward him becoming president.
As much as Remmy likes Lenk, Remmy’s still giving me a shot. Lenk’s style is to nip competition in the bud, and now that Remmy has me running point again, Lenk will be ready to act.
I see Lenk leaning into the bar and talking to Joanna. She’s smiling, but it’s the forced smile of a bartender. It doesn’t mean anything.
“I’ve got my eye on him,” I say to Rigg.
“During the raid?” Rigg asks. “Or with that new bartender?”
“Both.”
The Chrome Hog fills up fast as the sun sets, and soon it’s packed full with sweating bodies and worn leather.
“Hey,” a woman’s voice says.
I look up and see Viv. She’s wearing shredded jeans and a leather jacket over a tight shirt.
“Hey,” I grunt, not really looking at her.
“You, uh, with anyone tonight?” she asks.
I look her in the eyes now. She’s beautiful, and I’ve fucked her plenty of times, but I barely notice her now. “Yeah, I’m with someone.”
She smiles and looks around. “Who? Rigg?”
“I’m not in the mood, Viv.”
She rolls her eyes. “Fine then, but if you get drunk later and change your mind, don’t come begging me.”
I sneer at her. “I never beg a woman for anything.”
Once she’s gone, I look through the crowd to find Joanna, but she’s gone.
Shit.
7
Joanna
Once the crowd pours in, I’m so busy that I barely have time to keep tabs on Stone. I noticed him checking me out before, though that’s no surprise. He already made it pretty clear that he wants in my pants.
But damn, if I was unsure about being with a biker--even for a night--before, now I’m really sure it’s not worth the trouble. Chuck told me that he makes the bikers fight outside rather than in the bar--if they break that rule he won’t serve them drinks for a month. And already tonight I’ve seen six or seven tense staredowns, two of which ended with a group of bikers “stepping outside.” The first time, only one of the guys came back inside after the fight, and the second time they both came back in bruised and bloody, smiling and drinking together after beating the shit out of each other.
And one of those staredowns--one that didn’t end in a fight--involved Stone. When the guy with too many tattoos, Lenk, stepped inside, I could immediately feel the thick tension in the air. And right away they were in each other’s faces. I almost would feel more relieved if they had stepped outside and fought. Because after stepping away from each other, the tension lingered and grew.
And what the hell was with the gun? They were shooting a gun inside as if that was a normal occurrence.
“Hey, you hear me?”
I snap back and see Lenk leaning over the bar and looking at me. There’s a tattoo of a snake coiled around his neck and reaching up toward his chin. HIs eyes are a dead grey, and they don’t change at all when he smiles.
“Yeah, sorry,” I say. “Another Guinness?”
“No,” he says, leaning forward to look at the liquor bottles. “Get me a whiskey.”
I nod and turn back, then I notice that the whiskey bottle is totally empty. I look for Chuck, but I see the big guy and the scary guy that came in with Lenk talking to him, and they aren’t the kind of people I want to interrupt.
“Sorry,” I say. “I think we’re out. You want a bourbon?”
“There’s more in the back,” Lenk says. “I’m kind of in charge around here, so I can show you where it is.”
His eyes, which were totally dead before, light up suddenly. I can’t quite identify the emotion in them, but it sends a chill down my spine.
“Let me ask Chuck--”
He grabs my wrist. “I said I’m in charge. Chuck is fucking hired help. Now let me show you.”
I meet his eyes, and he lets go of my wrist.
“Don’t touch me again,” I say, voice icy cold.
He suddenly laughs, but his eyes are dead again. “Mmm, feisty. Don’t worry, the back room is just this way. I know where the whiskey is. It looks like there’s some other drinks missing, I can help you stock them.”
I try to find Stone through the crowd, and I notice that Chuck is gone now. I finally see Stone, but he’s talking to some stacked biker woman. A pang of jealousy flares up in my gut. It’s stupid to feel jealous when I don’t actually want to be with him.
Lenk taps the bar. “Come on.”
I glance toward Stone, realizing I’d feel much safer if he at least saw me stepping out and knew where I was. But the crowd moves, and I lose sight of him.
I follow Lenk through a grey swinging door with a circular window, and we enter a grimy hallway.
“First door on your left is Chuck’s office,” Lenk says. “Don’t go in there. Ever.”
I try to swallow, but it doesn’t go down. My throat feels suddenly dry.
Lenk points to the next door. “Don’t go in that one either.”
The next door is padlocked and chained. Lenk doesn’t comment on it.
We reach the final door. “And this is the storage room. You can go in this one.”
He pushes the door open, and it’s stacked with crates of bottled beer, kegs, and various bottles of liquor on metal shelves.
I see the whiskey a few feet away from me, right in front of the wall. I grab a bottle and quickly try to step out of the room, but Lenk’s big body is blocking the entire doorway.
“Go get some more gin while we’re in here,” he says.
I look at him, and that terrifying sparkle is back in his eyes. Didn’t he say he was going to help me get more drinks? Why is he blocking the door and not lifting a finger to help?
Shit. I should never have come in here. Even when he was grabbing my wrist, I was at least in sight of hundreds of other people, including Stone. Now I’m trapped and cornered.
I walk toward the shelves on the far wall, wanting to put space between me and Lenk. I realize it’s just moving me deeper into the room and further from escape, but maybe I’m being paranoid. Maybe once I grab the gin he’ll just laugh and show me back down the hallway and to the bar.
I grab hold of the gin, but before I turn around, I feel a presence behind me.
There’s a horrible heavy breath on the top of my head, followed by a low groan.
“Ever been with a real man?” he asks, his voice a growl.
I freeze, terrified. I’m afraid to turn around, afraid to move.
I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.
“What the hell,” another voice booms through the room. It’s Stone.
I turn around and see Stone in the doorway, and before I can even process it, he’s lunging across the storage room.
He grabs hold of Lenk and shoves him into the wall. The shelves shake, and the bottles clink and clatter, but none fall.
Lenk’s eyes widen, and his face burns red with fury. “Get your fucking hands off me,” he hisses.
Stone doesn’t let go. “What were you doing in here?”
“Showing the new girl where the drinks were,” Lenk says. “That’s all.”
Stone turns toward me. “Was that all?”
Lenk’s eyes burn into me.
“Y--yes,” I stammer. “That was all.”
Stone pulls Lenk off the wall, then spins him around and slams him into the doorframe. “You keep your fucking hands off her. Got it?”
Lenk’s eyes bulge. “You’re done, Stone. Fucking finished.”
Lenk takes a step backward out of the room, but his eyes are locked onto me as he steps away. He looks up toward Stone and points at him. “Finished.”
As soon as he’s gone, I feel tears stinging my eyes.
Stone rushes to my side, and his arms wrap around me. “Did he--”
“He didn’t,” I say. “But if you hadn’t come when you did...he might have.”
I bury my face into Stone’s chest. It’s wide and hard, but warm. My tears soak through his shirt as he runs his hand through my hair.
The whole thing plays through my mind again and again, and I suddenly look up at Stone. “He said ‘you’re finished.’ Is he going to do something to you? It’s my fault, I--”
Stone shakes his head. “He’s had it out for me for years. He always says shit like that. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says, “I’m sure. You’ve seen how it is around here. Fighting is how we keep the peace.”
My fear burns hot into flaring anger. “So I guess I’ll just go back out there and smile? Pour him a drink and laugh it off?”
“Hell no,” Stone says. “I’m not letting you work here. I should have stopped you the moment I saw you, but...I wanted to see you.”
His eyes dart down, and he looks me up and down. He brings a hand to my cheek.
“You can’t ‘let me’ work here, Stone,” I say. “It’s my choice.”
“Alright,” he says, his voice cool. “So do you want to keep working here then?”
I pause to think, but I realize I’ve already decided. “Hell no. Can you get me out of here?”
Stone grins at me. “You’re asking me for a ride?”
I pop the top off the gin and take a long swig. “Yes,” I say, the burn of the alcohol spreading its arms across my body and brain. “I want to ride.”
I’ll leave it to him to decide just what kind of ride.
He takes me by the hand out of the room and deeper down the hallway. He kicks open a fire exit at the end of the hall, and he pulls me out into the night.
I chug some more gin, trying to wash away the memory of Lenk. If Stone hadn’t come for me when he did, if I’d been alone in there for even ten more seconds with Lenk, what would have happened?
