Luke studied Outlaw then looked toward the huge church building that brought in hundreds of thousands of dollars every week. “You got room for me to ride with you?”
A frown creased Outlaw’s brow. “Fuck, Luke. You lettin’ that cunt run you the fuck away?” He heaved in a breath. “You got another fuckin’ year left to school.”
“I’ll come back in the fall to finish up.”
“Ain’t you goin’ to college?”
“Yeah,” he said slowly.
“But you wanna hang round the fuckin’ club?”
“Not like a lot of fuckers around here give a fuck about me. Just Char.”
“I guess it ain’t fuckin’ hit you yet that bitch don’t give a good fuck about you, either.”
Matthew’s wince matched Lucas’s.
“Get on. Let’s go find some pussy to get into. You might fuckin’ feel better.”
Lucas froze, then shook his head. “Never fucked anybody but Charlemagne and I used most of my money I’d earned on the road trip with you, so I don’t have anything to get a room with and we can’t go to my dad’s estate. Fucking servant spy motherfuckers would give him a fucking earful.”
“Obviously, Char been fuckin’ everything possible and fuckin’ hell bent on me gettin’ in her. I ain’t got a fuckin’ problem with it, except you happen to be in love with her fuckin’ ass.” Outlaw shrugged. “Wasn’t for that shit, I woulda taken her in the fuckin’ bathroom and fucked the shit outta her. She one gorgeous, fuckin’ girl. Spoiled like a motherfucker, but ain’t like I’d be bringin’ her fuckin’ home to listen to her whinin’.”
“Char don’t mean half the shit she does or say,” Lucas said in quick defense of her. “She just think she entitled to whatever. She was raised not to understand the word ‘no’.”
“Get on,” Outlaw ordered again. “Think of it this way: Char gave you permission to fuck other girls.”
“She didn’t mean it.”
Outlaw sighed and cocked his head to the side. “How long it been since you been in her?”
“About a month. She has blown me a couple times, though, and let me eat her.”
“Yeah. Right. Just to keep you strung the fuck along. You sure you wanna come up to Hortensia with us? I’m tryin’ to give you a minute, see if a little pussy might help you feel better about the bullshit Char pulled today. If it don’t and you still wanna come, then we ride.”
“Okay,” Lucas conceded.
“You really must like the bitch position.” Outlaw snickered and pointed over his shoulder to the seat behind him.
A moment later, they were roaring off, leaving Matthew alone after a brief acknowledgement, which was where Charlemagne found him when she came out of the church.
She glanced around, holding a designer bag she hadn’t had on her way in. “They’re gone?”
Matthew scowled at her. “You fucking see them here?”
Slipping the strap to the crook of her arm, she opened the bag and pulled out a container of pills of various shapes and sizes. She eyed him slyly. “I’ve seen you.”
“Seen me?” he asked, confused, somehow dragging his gaze away from the drugs without snatching them from her hand and making a run for it.
Her smile widened and she allowed the strap to slide down her arm where she deftly caught it between her fingers. “Using,” she clarified. “I’ve seen you using.”
Fuck.
When?
Did it matter?
Sharper wouldn’t allow him to remain if he discovered Matthew’s habit. He’d gotten a place to sleep right outside the rectory offices in the hallway by sheer accident. After coming to a meal for the homeless, Matthew had taken a walk on the grounds and, tired from being awake for hours fucking and popping pills, he’d fallen asleep, only to be kicked awake by Sharper’s guards. Out of sight of his flock, Sharper acted more like an underworld lord, than a man of religion. But, apparently, he needed everyone to believe him to be a benevolent motherfucker. He’d stopped Matthew’s ass beating and taken him in his office.
An hour later, he’d agreed to let Matthew sleep on premises at night if he made himself useful during the day. Sharper harped on education, so he also demanded Matthew start studying for his GED.
But, if Matthew fucked up on one thing, he didn’t get food. If he returned past ten o’clock at night, he wasn’t allowed entry. He hadn’t eaten in two days, penalized for returning to the church at 10:01, drunk and reeking of sex.
Sharper had waited until Matthew got right to the door before slamming it in his face. Maybe, Matthew had gotten soft in the three months he’d been there, but the prospect of sleeping on the streets, having to fuck to not only eat and get his drugs but to have a place to stay, turned his stomach. At least, now, as long as he toed the line, his fucking didn’t have the desperation of needing food and sleeping quarters.
With a frustrated huff of breath, Charlemagne held up the bag of pills and wiggled it, grabbing Matthew’s attention.
“You want some?”
“Luke know you use?”
She smirked at him. “He’s a boy. Innocent, stupid, and trusting.”
“He says he loves you.”
“His problem, not mine. But enough about that. I’m tired of discussing such insignificance.” Resettling her purse strap on her shoulder, she opened the plastic bag and popped one out. She stuck out her tongue, placed the pill on it, then swallowed.
Matthew’s skin clammed up at the sight of two of his biggest weaknesses—a woman and a pill. His dick started throbbing and his heart rate increased. When she held out the bag and he reached for it, she yanked it back.
“Uh-uh.” She palmed her breast. “You’re fucking me to keep me quiet about your drug use in the church when Sharper opened his heart up to you.” She dangled the bag again, her pupils already beginning to dilate. “You want a hit, too? Then, in addition, to fucking me, you have to eat me.”
She pulled out a pill and slid it along his jaw. “Here, baby. Take it. Just because you’re so easy to look at and talk to.” She leaned in and bit his neck, pushing the pill into his mouth at the same time. “If you want more, you have to do what I asked.”
Didn’t he always? With a nod, he followed her to her car.
Matthew stumbled into the all-night diner, the taste of Char still in his mouth and on his lips. Fucking insatiable bitch with the ability to almost swallow a dick down her throat. He hadn’t been able to get enough of her or enough of the drugs she’d offered. Not only one or two pills but marijuana laced with shit, too. The best fucking highs of his life, outside of his first.
But he still hadn’t eaten. Worse, he’d missed Sharper’s curfew by hours, so he wouldn’t be getting a meal from that direction anytime soon. Char arbitrarily decided to kick him out of her car a couple blocks from the church. He’d offered to let her ride his mouth until daybreak if she bought him something to eat.
Instead, she’d laughed and said, “get the fuck out of my ride, asshole.”
He’d almost crashed right into one of the Harleys parked outside and her bitch cackle rose above the car’s screeching as she sped off so fast her tires spun.
Now, he stood in the middle of the shitty diner, seeing that three of the booths were filled. Too busy trying to think what the fuck he needed to do for a meal, he didn’t pay much attention to the booth occupants.
He swayed and clutched a weak wooden chair to keep from falling flat on his ass.
“Son, what you doing here?”
Gripping tighter, Matthew squinted. “Luke?” Luke. Not one, though. He saw two Lukes and blinked. “You have a twin?”
Two blended into one again, then split into three.
“Holy fuck.” He slapped his face and scrubbed his fingers over his eyes, leaving a trail of pain. “Where’d the other you come from?”
“Outlaw,” the biggest Luke called over his shoulder and pried Matthew’s fingers from the chair to guide him down.
Matthew stared, trying
to make sense of the situation, gasping when the other two little Lukes disappeared. He blinked again, unable to shut his lids. “Fuck!” he yelled. “Somebody glued my eyelids open.”
“Ignore this fuckhead, Luke.” Outlaw’s command didn’t help Matthew’s panic.
“I need to be able to close my eyes!”
“He fucked outta his fuckin’ head.” Outlaw grabbed Luke’s arm and started pulling him away.
They were going to leave Matthew alone. Everyone left him at some point. Left him to fend for himself. Starve. Die. No one gave a fuck. The world spun around leaders, motherfuckers like Outlaw. Girls offered him pussy for no other reason than he was a biker.
Matthew glared at Outlaw. “Fuck you, then, motherfucker,” he slurred through slob and tears. “I don’t need you, him, or Sharper. I got pussy from Char, so I’m just as good as you.”
“Stand the fuck up and repeat that shit to my fuckin’ face, motherfucker.” Outlaw’s growl coincided with Luke’s, “you fucked my girlfriend?”
He had, hadn’t he? Fuck. Not good. He scraped his fingers through his tingling scalp. “She offered.” He raised an empty hand then pointed to it. “For fucking pills.”
Outlaw yanked him up by the collar and slammed a fist into his jaw, knocking him to the floor. The look of fury on Luke’s face as he reached for Matthew’s aching body frightened the fuck out of him.
He was dead. They were finally going to put him out of his fucking misery. End seventeen years of a wasted fucking life. Before either Outlaw or Luke acted again, three other men stepped into Matthew’s line of vision.
Goddammit. No way would violence and murder be allowed in a public fucking place. Relief and disappointment mingled in Matthew as the big, blond man whispered to Outlaw, while a man with a bandaged eye spoke quietly to Luke. The third man, a black bearded, beady eyed motherfucker hung in the background, his arms folded.
The blond man stepped back. “Let’s ride, boy.”
Seeming to have forgotten Matthew, who watched the unfolding events from his spot on the floor, Outlaw looked at Luke. “You ain’t shittin’? You want in?”
Matthew’s mind settling, reason and sanity returned to him. Most of all, his ability to regret came back. If he could redo the last fifteen or twenty minutes, he would. Luke hadn’t ever done shit to him, so there’d been no need to talk about Char.
Except her taste and scent still clung to his body. Opinions remained at bay with most of the women he fucked, but his views on Charlemagne differed. He didn’t like her, not one bit.
He blinked at the ceiling and wiped the spit and blood from his face. His stomach growled and bile gagged him. A kick to the ribs made him cry out and sent the bile and alcohol up. Turning to his side, he vomited, moaning at a kick to the back.
“Stop it,” a female voice demanded from behind the counter. “I’m getting Sharper here if you don’t.”
Sharper? Why not a deputy?
“We’re getting out in five minutes, Vanessa,” the blond man called.
“Yeah, soon as Big Joe get this stupid motherfucker to realize Logan not going to want a Black in the club,” the beady eyed motherfucker sneered.
“Logan ain’t runnin’ this motherfucker, Rack,” Outlaw snapped. “Boss the fuck is.”
Boss/Big Joe scowled at Outlaw and ignored Rack. “You want him in?”
Outlaw nodded and Matthew saw the blond leader’s capitulation. He closed his eyes and rested his head on the dirty floor, surprised that one nod got Luke’s acceptance.
“He can’t fucking ride, Christopher,” a new, gruff voice said, and Matthew popped his eyes back open to get the identity of the speaker and to discover who the fuck Christopher was.
“Ain’t none of us could fuckin’ ride at one time, Kitchen Pussy.”
Outlaw was Christopher, and the speaker had been the man with the bandaged eye.
“You fucking vouch for him, Outlaw?” Boss/Big Joe asked.
“Fuck, Boss. Yeah, I fuckin’ vouch for him. I’m takin’ him in and sponsorin’ him.”
“He can’t fucking sponsor no motherfucker, Joe,” Rack yelled. “Not as a motherfucking probate.”
Boss/Big Joe narrowed his suddenly cold, blue gaze on Rack. “Outside, motherfucker, before I shoot the back of your fucking throat out for talking to me like that and getting into business you don’t fucking belong in.”
Mumbling to himself, Rack hauled ass outside.
“I’ll sponsor Lucas,” Kitchen Pussy offered.
“Luke, you ride bitch with that motherfucker,” Boss/Big Joe said, thrusting his chin into Outlaw’s direction before crouching down next to Matthew. “Now, what the fuck should we do with you, pussy?”
“Take me with you,” Matthew slurred around pain and hunger and dizziness. “I don’t ride bikes, but I can do whatever else you need.”
“Yeah, Boss,” Outlaw called, glaring down at Matthew. “Let’s bring this motherfucker. Leave pieces of his ass along the fuckin’ highway.”
“My club isn’t the fucking SPCA,” Boss/Big Joe growled. “I don’t take in fucking strays just for fuck.”
“Since I just got Luke for my bitch, maybe, I need to keep him happy and get him a bitch. Matthew the perfect fuckin’ choice. Fuck, Luke can even pipe fuck his bitch.”
“Fuck off,” Luke snapped. “I’m not into any type of fucking other men.”
Matthew struggled to a sitting position.
“Did I say sit the fuck up, motherfucker?” Outlaw snarled, punching him in the mouth.
Matthew wheezed in a breath and his stomach growled, on the verge of being sick again. On the verge of being…dead.
Outlaw stuck a gun to his temple and Matthew held his breath, waiting for the report, waiting for the bullet to shatter his head.
“Outlaw, don’t!” Vanessa screamed. “I ain’t got time to be cleaning your goddamn mess.”
“Ever fuckin’ talk to me the way you fuckin’ did a little while ago and I’m sendin’ you straight the fuck to hell, courtesy of my fuckin’ piece.” Outlaw jiggled the gun. “You fuckin’ hear me?”
His stomach growling again, Matthew nodded. Outlaw grabbed his collar and yanked him to his feet.
“You ride?”
Heart sinking, Matthew shook his head.
Shoving his gun inside a leather vest with the word Probate on it, Outlaw lifted a brow. “What the fuck can you do?”
“Hook up video and audio shit,” Lucas provided while Matthew searched his mind to come up with something.
“How do you know that?” he asked, surprised that Lucas did. He didn’t remember ever mentioning it to him. Oh, yes, he’d told Sharper, though. When Lucas didn’t answer, Matthew dropped heavily into the chair and bowed his head, not thinking about his next words. “My old man taught me, so we could film my mother fucking other men. That shit fuck with your head. Pills help me cope with my empty stomach and my need for pussy. Luke, man, I didn’t mean to. She intended to tell Sharper I use if I didn’t fuck her.” Tears rolled down his cheeks and he sniffled, feeling like a sniveling pussy coward, but he had so many different drugs raging in him, he could barely tell up from down, so filtering his words and emotions were impossible.
“Where your Ma now?” Outlaw asked, shoving a menu in front of Matthew before taking a seat at the table with him. “Order up, motherfucker.”
Unable to refuse the offer, Matthew jerked open the menu and studied it, responding with a, “dead. Don’t know where she’s buried, though.”
Luke sat in the other seat to pin death glares on Matthew, but Boss/Big Joe and Kitchen Pussy were gone.
“How the fuck you know she dead then?”
Choosing onion rings, fried eggs, ham, and pancakes, Matthew shrugged once Vanessa took the order. “I saw my old man slit her throat, Outlaw.”
At the silence that settled around him, Matthew realized all he’d revealed. More than he’d ever told anyone in his life. When he’d been in school, the kids hadn’t known about all th
e porn he got to watch and, later, the real women he got to fuck. But, once his father overdosed, two years ago, school had become so difficult. Somehow, he’d managed, eking by with low passing grades. Finally, at the beginning of the spring semester, earlier this year, he’d said fuck it. A junior, he found it too fucking difficult juggling partial homelessness and full-on gigolo-status to worry about lessons.
Outlaw’s spurs jingled away and Matthew figured they wouldn’t want to deal with a fucked-up motherfucker like him with two strikes already—insulting Outlaw and fucking Luke’s girl.
Luke continued to try to strike Matthew dead with his evil stares. A few minutes later, Vanessa sat his food down as Outlaw, Kitchen Pussy and Boss/Big Joe returned.
Matthew tasted an onion ring.
“What do you know about bikers?” Kitchen Pussy asked, disregarding Matthew’s concentration on the meal.
“Fuck all,” he answered, around a partially chewed helping of ham and onion ring. “Ask me about pussy. Drinking. Drugs. Scrounging—”
“Luke, when we get to the compound, I want you to beat this motherfucker to a pulp for putting his dick in your bitch,” Boss/Big Joe said with finality. “Then, the matter dropped. Understand?”
Luke nodded, then everyone turned their gazes to Matthew. They didn’t really expect him to agree to have his ass beat, did they?
Apparently, they did. Outlaw continued talking without flinching. “If you wanna ride with us, that’s the best fuckin’ offer you gettin’,” he explained in a hard voice.
Losing his appetite, Matthew pushed his plate away. “Will I be able to walk afterwards?”
“You’ll see, won’t you, motherfucker?” Luke growled, pushing to his feet and stalking out of the diner.
Boss/Big Joe swept all of them with a cold look. “Not a motherfucker around here better look at another stray and think I’m fucking taking them in.” He pinned his icy gaze on Matthew. “If Outlaw tell you to kiss his fucking ass for the rest of his fucking life, you fucking do it. He’s being a merciful motherfucker. I don’t know what he sees in you and I don’t give a fuck. You touch our merchandise, you’re dead, so I suggest you fuck off the drugs. K-P?”
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 119
