by Lilly Atlas
“You want me, angel?” He pinched her nipple between his thumb and forefinger which caused her back to arch pressing her ass further into his hard-on and her breast more fully into his hand.
“God, yes,” she said on a moan.
“What do you want?”
“Anything.”
He stilled. His fantasies about Kori knew no bounds and if she gave him carte blanche, he’d take it and run. He released her breast and trailed his hand back down her torso and around to her ass. After a caressing squeeze to one cheek, he ran his finger along the seam of her ass. “Anything?”
“Yes, Lucky. Anything. You can have anything, do anything.”
He groaned. “Christ, baby.” The writhing had to stop or he was going to shoot all over her back and owe her big time. “This is not the time or the place, but that ass will be mine. Soon.”
“It’s already yours, Lucky. Everything is yours.”
Jesus, she was blowing his mind today. Time to show her just how much. He rolled her to her back settled on top of her. Her legs parted at once, cradling him with the warm, wet heat between her thighs. “For now…” he said as he lowered his mouth to her.
Lucky’s phone blared out a text message alert from the table next to their bed. Great fuckin’ timing.
“Lucky? Aren’t you gonna get that?” Kori asked as she ran her hands up and down his spine.
“Nah. They can wait. Actually, I kinda like the idea of Rebel and Savage waiting on ice while I ravage you.”
“Lucky,” she swatted his arm as his phone chimed again. “Check it.”
With a sigh, he rolled off of her. “Yes, ma’am.” He snatched up the phone and swiped it open to a text from Acer.
911. Shit hit fan.
Need assist.
“Fuck!” He shot out of the bed and wrestled into his jeans.
“What’s wrong?” Kori sat straight up, the sheet covering her nudity. Her eyes were wide with fear and she clutched the sheet like a lifeline.
“Not sure. Acer said shit went bad and they need help. I can be there in five minutes.” While he spoke, he shoved his feet into his boots and reached for his keys.
“I’m coming too.” Kori jumped out of bed no longer attempting to cover herself.
“No fucking way.”
“Lucky, be reasonable. You may need my help.” Her hands were on her hips, a mutinous expression on her face. If it were any other time, Lucky would have laughed at the naked warrior ready to jump into battle with him.
“No, baby. Not just no. Fuck no. You aren’t getting anywhere near that clubhouse without a guarantee that you’ll be one hundred percent safe. Once I have that I’ll come back for you. You’ll get to confront your father. I promise.”
“But—”
He shook his head. “No buts. I can’t do what I need to do if I’m worrying about you. It will be a distraction I can’t afford. You don’t want to risk anyone getting hurt because I’m not on my game, do you?”
It was the low road, putting responsibility on her, and her narrowed eyes let him know she thought so too, but she relented. That was all that mattered. Besides, it was true. He’d be ineffective if he had to worry about her. If she stayed here he could do what he needed to do, secure in her safety.
“Fine. But you call me the very second you can. Okay?”
He tugged her close and kissed her. “Okay, angel. Don’t leave this room. For anything. Understood?”
“Yes!” She shoved him away. “Go! You’re wasting time.”
He kissed her one more time then dashed out the door leaving her standing stark naked in the center of a sleazy motel room. When this was all over he was taking her to a five-star resort and they’d drown in delicious food, drink, and each other for a week.
Lucky paid no attention to speed limits as he raced toward the clubhouse. He made it in four minutes. The street outside was quiet, but at least twenty bikes were lined up in front of the building indicating the problem must be inside.
There wasn’t a soul he could call for backup. Everyone he would have normally called was already inside and it would take far too long for anyone else to ride up from Crystal Rock. “Fuck it,” he muttered as he shoved the entrance door open.
“Holy shit!” The scene that greeted him was insane. There had to be fifteen to twenty pissed off bikers in the clubhouse with guns pointed in every direction he looked. Once he had a second to get his bearings, he realized the men were mostly lined up opposite each other. Vegas on one side, Arizona on the other with weapons pointing across the aisle.
Savage stood in the center, his gun trained on Bull who also stood in the empty space but appeared to be trying to talk some sense into the Vegas crew. His arms were up in a position of surrender and his eyes were glued to Savage’s trigger finger.
Intent on the volatile standoff, no one seemed to realize Lucky had entered the building.
“Bullshit,” someone called out. It sounded like Vee. “No fucking way are they selling drugs. You assholes wasted your time coming up here.” Mutters of agreement came from the rest of the Vegas side of the room.
“Look,” Bull said. “I know it sounds crazy, but I swear on my Harley that it’s the goddamned truth.”
“Shut the fuck up,” said Savage. He lunged toward Bull, raising his weapon so it was centered between the other man’s eyes. If Savage discharged his gun, all hell would break loose and a blood bath would ensue in the middle of the damn clubhouse.
Time to do something before the inside of the clubhouse rivaled the streets of Afghanistan. He raised his hands much in the same manner as Bull. “It’s true.”
Every head in the room swiveled in his direction. Relief was written on the faces of his Arizona brothers, while no less than five men from Vegas—men he would have given his life for—trained their guns on him. Savage’s face twisted into a sinister smile. All he was missing was the long black mustache to twist while he cackled like the evil villain he was.
Lucky’s knuckles tingled with the urge to ram into Savage’s smug face. The arrogant bastard thought he was home free. Thought no one would believe Lucky. Little did he know Lucky wasn’t leaving until Savage was unconscious at the very best, in a body bag preferably.
“Thank God,” Bull murmured.
“What the fuck is going on?” This time he was sure it was Vee who’d spoken. Apparently, he was the self-appointed spokesman for the Vegas crew.
With his hands sill raised, Lucky took slow, sure steps until he was in the chasm between the two groups. “Rebel and Savage have been pushing drugs here in Vegas for months. Their two-man enterprise is growing and very lucrative. It’s a kick in the nuts to the club on a number of levels. First, it’s against the bylaws. And second, they are raking in the dough for themselves. Not the good of the club.”
The faces of his Vegas brothers began to change from irritated disbelief to shock. Lucky had been well respected within the chapter. They’d believe him where Bull may not have gotten through.
“How do you know all this?” Vee asked.
“I overheard a conversation. Did some investigating. I was ready to talk to Striker and Shiv about it when Kori showed up and put a wrench in my plans.”
Vee nodded. “You didn’t want her hurt.”
“Yeah, well turns out it backfired. They blackmailed her into agreeing to marry Savage to keep me alive. They’ve had thousands of dollars of product right under your noses in the shed out back.”
“Fuck,” someone muttered. “I didn’t think that damn thing even opened. Where’s Rebel now?”
“Jester has him and the drugs out back in a van until we can deal with him,” Acer said.
“Now you all have a choice. Savage and Rebel are looking to up their game. Looking for help. Tempting, all that potential for money. But think about this. What’s the foundation of this club based on? The belly of our beast? Loyalty, brotherhood, club before all. Rebel and Savage spat in the face of all that we stand for. You really want to join
up with two selfish assholes like that?”
Slowly, weapons on the Vegas side lowered, directing toward the ground instead of the visitors. Acer, Hook, and the gang from Arizona shifted their weapons toward Savage.
The click of Savage’s round loading in the chamber echoed through the confused silence. “This is between me and Lucky. Has nothing to do with any drugs. His panties are just in a wad because Kori left him for me.”
Lucky tipped his head to the side and couldn’t have suppressed his grin for a million bucks. “Really? You sure about that? Where do you think she’s been the last couple weeks? Whose bed you do you think she’s been in?”
Savage’s face turned a deep dark red. A split second of worry blasted through Lucky. There was a very good chance Savage would actually shoot him. Might be worth it for the satisfaction of knocking him off his high horse. “She’s been in Florida,” he ground out between clenched teeth.
“Sure,” Lucky said, that satisfaction growing by the second. “That’s where’s she’s been.”
“Everyone get the fuck out.” After barking the order, Savage tossed his gun to the ground, out of reach.
Yes. One on one. Him and Savage. No weapons. No holds barred. Lucky was no stranger to hand to hand combat. He excelled in the Marine Corps Mixed Martial Arts Program, receiving a second-degree black belt faster than anyone in his battalion. Since then he’d trained in various martial arts and even won a few bucks fighting at various times.
Every pair of eyes in the room flicked to Lucky as if looking for guidance. He nodded. “Go ahead. Leave us.”
One by one the guys shuffled out of the clubhouse. Acer remained behind, his mouth drawn tight in a look of disapproval. “I’m not leaving, Lucky. I don’t trust him for shit.”
“Aww,” Savage said. “You worried I’m gonna hurt your friend, Acer?” Savage’s tone was full of mocking.
Lucky met Acer’s gaze and his friend nodded before backing out of the clubhouse. He’d stick by, close to the door if needed, but also give Lucky the freedom to kick the shit out of Savage.
Alone with a man whose death he’d had been plotting for weeks, Lucky shrugged out of his cut and threw it on the bar. No need to bloody it up. And while he was confident in his ability to tear Savage apart, he wasn’t fool enough to believe it’d be easy or he’d walk away unscathed. Every bruise would be well worth it.
The pulse of Lucky’s blood in his veins picked up speed as adrenalin flooded his system. His fight or flight instinct kicked in with no thoughts of fleeing until Savage was in a heap on the ground.
“So the bitch crawled back you, huh? Savage asked with a smirk. “Gonna be rough for you when she’s back in my bed.” He raised an eyebrow and licked his lips. “Her pussy still taste as good as I remember?”
Lucky’s nostrils flared as anger surged. He flexed his fingers and rolled his head along his shoulders. Savage was clearly taunting him into throwing the first punch. He wouldn’t give the man the satisfaction of knowing how deep under Lucky’s skin his comments pierced.
“Damn, it is good, isn’t it? Mmm. And fuck she was tight.” Savage smiled and grabbed his crotch.
She never slept with him. Lucky repeated the mantra again and again.
“I’m thinking I must have gone a little too easy on her though. This time around, she’ll damn well know where she belongs. Sounds like she needs a rougher hand.”
Fuck it. Savage wanted to goad Lucky in to making the first move then he damn well deserved to be the first one to have his face smashed in.
Lucky flew across the distance between them, cocking his fist on the way. When the crushing pain of his knuckles landing on Savage’s smug, grinning face registered, Lucky welcomed the hurt. He cherished it, craved it.
Let the games begin.
Chapter Forty
Alone in the less than luxurious motel room, Kori hopped in the shower—a quick rinse to rid herself of the road. Then she brushed her teeth, combed her hair, and redressed.
Nervous energy fluttered in her stomach as she sat on the edge of the bed. Her foot wouldn’t stay still and bounced like the ground was laden with hot coals. She glanced at her phone.
All right. She did pretty well. Held it together like a champ for the fourteen minutes since Lucky left in a rush to investigate Acer’s cryptic and concerning text.
Good enough.
She sprang off the bed, stuffed her room key, identification, and some cash in her pocket, grabbed her phone, and darted out the door. Three minutes later she climbed into an Uber and sped off toward the clubhouse.
Maybe she needed to rethink being an ol’ lady, because it seemed she was shit at taking orders. Particularly the kind where she was told to stay away and out of her man’s business. Lucky would be pissed, but that was just too damn bad for him. She wasn’t the type of woman who could sit by and knit while the man she loved battled danger without backup.
And she did love him.
Another thing that was just too damn bad for him.
The six-minute drive felt more like an hour and somehow in that short time, she managed to think of every worst-case scenario possible. By the time the driver braked in front of the clubhouse, she was a jittery mess of extreme anxiety, convinced she’d find a clubhouse full of dead bikers.
“Thank you,” she managed to get out to the driver despite the arid quality of her mouth.
Men, both Vegas and Arizona, lingered in the parking lot, the tension so thick it was practically a fog around them. Acer hovered by the entrance to the clubhouse, arms folded across his chest, his head inclined toward the door.
Where the hell was Lucky?
A loud crash sounded from the clubhouse and Kori’s heart skipped multiple beats. Every head in the lot swiveled and stared at Acer. He frowned, but kept up his position as sentry.
Her legs felt disconnected, separated from her brain as they propelled her forward despite the screaming in her mind that this was a horrible idea. Something was wrong. Lucky should be out here. If she walked in that clubhouse and found him injured—or worse—she wouldn’t be held accountable for her actions.
“Kori! What the hell are you doing here?” Acer was the first to spot her and he vacated his post, tromping across the lot.
Yikes. He was one pissed off biker, and Lucky’s anger was guaranteed to be ten times more intense. Whatever. He could rail at her for hours as long as he was safe and unharmed.
“W-where’s Lucky?” She held her breath waiting for the answer.
“Kori…” Acer stopped her forward progression with a firm hand on each shoulder. “You need to go back to the motel. Now.”
Everyone stared at her, but after the show she put on at the meeting the week before, she was becoming accustomed to being a spectacle.
She shook her head. “Not happening. Where the hell is he?” Another crash broadcasted from the clubhouse and she met Acer’s sympathetic gaze. “Is he in there?” she whispered.
The door to the clubhouse flew open and Savage stumbled out looking like someone from a cheap slasher movie. No, not just someone. The lunatic-eyed murderer. Blood flowed from his nose and somewhere on his head, raining down his body and soaking his torn shirt. He still moved well, as though he suffered nothing more than a papercut.
“Oh my God.” All rational thought fled her mind. Self-preservation flew out the window. Thoughts of safety and her personal wellbeing, gone. She shoved Acer with all her might and darted around him charging for Savage.
“Kori, no!” Acer yelled from behind her, but his words glided in one ear and straight out the other.
“What the hell did you do to him?” Kori screamed as she rushed toward Savage. Her palm connected with his face before her brain had time to warn her of the danger in attacking such a lethal and furious man.
He was on her so fast, she never saw the assault coming. Pain exploded on the left side of her face as his fist collided with her cheek. The punched rattled her brain and stars danced in front of her vision.
Unable to remain upright after being unbalanced by what felt like a Mack truck, Kori dropped like a stone on the unforgiving ground.
Disoriented, she tried to scramble away, but Savage was too big and too fast. His booted foot connected with her side and she screamed in agony. The next thing she knew, a crushing weight pressed down on her chest. Finally, her vision cleared and she looked into the face of a murderous Savage straddling her chest and impairing her ability to breathe.
She screamed, grappled, and slapped him with everything she had left, but she was no match for his strength. The bare skin of her upper back and shoulders felt like it was being ripped from her body as she struggled between a two-hundred-pound man and the scorching asphalt.
It all happened in the blink of an eye. The entire encounter couldn’t have lasted more than five seconds. Savage managed to connect one more face-smashing blow before he was violently yanked from her body. His boot snuck in one more rib shot while three huge men dragged him away. “You’re fucking dead, bitch,” he screamed. “I own you. I’m gonna fuck you then kill you while Lucky watches.”
Acer grasped her under the arms and pulled her back at the same time his brothers yanked Savage away. Her ribs screamed in protest, her head pounded like a heavy metal drummer had set up camp, and the abraded skin of her back scraped across the hot ground drawing a cry of distress from her.
While Lucky watches.
Lucky had to be alive to watch anything. A small seed of hope developed.
“Sweetie, we’re going to call an ambulance. Can you sit up so I can look at your back, or is it too painful to move?” Acer asked.
Just as she opened her mouth to answer, the clubhouse entrance opened again. Lucky erupted through the door like a Hollywood stunt man, a wild look in his eyes. Blood dripped from his nose and lip and a purple ring was swelling around one eye, but he appeared to be in better shape than Savage.
He spotted her sprawled on the ground, her head resting against Acer’s thighs and everything in him hardened. His eyes went flat, his posture grew rigid and he turned toward the men restraining Savage.
