Luring the Biker (The Biker) Book 7

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Luring the Biker (The Biker) Book 7 Page 1

by Cassie Alexandra




  Luring the Biker

  By

  Cassie Alexandra

  Copyright ©2017 by Kristen Middleton

  Cover Design – Book Cover By Design

  All rights reserved.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of this copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  The characters and events portrayed in these books are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. The author acknowledges the trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which has been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Prologue

  Cottage Grove, Minnesota

  Cane, the president of the Blood Angels, pounded the gavel against the table, frustrated with the twelve club members seated before him.

  Silence filled the room.

  He lit up a cigarette while they waited for him to speak. The guys had been arguing about what to do with the newly patched-over Gold Vipers of St. Paul, formerly Steel Bandits. Cane knew they weren’t going to like what he was about to say. But, there was a reason why he was president and they weren’t—they all acted on emotions, and that’s why they were in their current position. “This is what we’re going to do, brothers. Ab-so-fucking-lutely nothing.”

  They all stared at him in confusion.

  “What do you mean, nothing?” grumbled Dice, staring at Cane in disbelief.

  “They’re looking for a fight,” said Cane. “And as much as I’d like to meet those douchebags head-on, they’ve got the backing of the Gold Vipers. It would be suicide to have a face-off right now.”

  “Those fuckers killed Charlie and ruined my bachelor party,” mumbled Jet, the V.P.

  If that wasn’t bad enough, the police showed up and he’d ended up in jail because of some shitty, outstanding parking tickets. Luckily, they’d been able to hide Charlie’s body, preferring to avenge his death without the law. As for Charlie, he was at the bottom of the St. Croix River, near a place dubbed “Beer-Can Island.” It had been his favorite place to party during the summer. It only seemed right that it would be his final resting place.

  “Yeah, and we retaliated by killing their president and his old lady,” reminded Cane. “Obviously, we have a lot of people pissed off at us right now, so we need to be careful.”

  “Fuck everyone else. I want Phoenix’s blood,” replied Jet, cracking his knuckles. “If I have to, I’ll even make it look like an accident.”

  “You’ll get your chance,” said Cane. “First things first, though. We need to get the word out on the streets that we’ve moved our clubhouse somewhere out of town. That will give us a little breathing room.”

  Currently, they were using an old farmhouse in Cottage Grove, ironically less than thirty minutes away from the Gold Vipers’ clubhouse. It was Cane’s Aunt Beatrice’s place, and she was currently in a nursing home. They’d donated most of her furniture, using her living room for their meeting place. As for the rest of the house, some of the members were living there, while others were staying with friends and family. Since they’d assassinated Tom and his wife, none of them could show their faces without risking retaliation. It was a frustrating time for everyone.

  “And then?” asked Jet, tapping his fingers on the table and looking annoyed.

  Cane smiled slowly. “We rip them apart. From the inside.”

  “What do you mean?” Dice asked, perking up.

  “We frame the new VP, Tarot, and cause a lot of fucking chaos. That’s what we do,” he replied. “Not only will it affect the club, but Tank’s going to regret patching the Steel Bandits over by the time we’re done with them. From what I hear, he and Tarot are pretty close. He’ll stand by his side, even when the shit hits the fan.”

  Tank was the president of the Gold Vipers, Iowa Chapter. They weren’t anyone to mess around with.

  “Tarot?” said Dice. “I thought his name was Dom?”

  “It is. Tarot is his road name,” smirked Cane. “Apparently, he’s psychic. In other words, he’s a fruit-loop and won’t be much of a threat.”

  Most of the others laughed.

  “I heard he really does know things,” said Boomer, looking around. “Things he shouldn’t.”

  “I bet if he read your palm, he’d tell you that you were gullible as shit,” joked Dice, lighting a cigarette.

  “Mock me all you want. I’ve read books about psychics and have watched television shows,” said Boomer. “You guys see that Long Island Medium series?”

  Dice snorted. “Shit on television isn’t real.”

  “It’s reality TV,” replied Boomer.

  “Oh, then it must be real,” mocked one of the other members.

  Boomer flipped him off.

  “Boomer, if Tarot really knew what we have in store for those fuckers, he wouldn’t be with them,” said Jet.

  Boomer was about to reply when Cane cut him off. “Enough about this psychic mumbo-jumbo. These guys are going down, and believe me—”he looked around the table—

  “nobody is going to know what the fuck is going on. Especially Tarot.”

  Dice blew out a cloud of smoke. “How are you going to frame him?”

  “I’m glad you asked.” With a twinkle in his eyes, Cane pulled out his cell phone and sent out a text. A few seconds later, the door opened and a man entered the room.

  “No… fucking… way,” said Dice, doing a double-take.

  The stranger could have been Tarot’s twin brother, only a little taller and with sharper features. Other than that, the resemblance was remarkable.

  “Brothers, this is Blade. A nomad from Florida. He
’s going to help us in our little endeavor,” said Cane with a satisfied grin.

  Chapter 1

  Stillwater, Minnesota

  3 weeks later

  Tarot

  “How are things coming along out here, Tarot?” Tank asked after we ordered two bottles of Tecate, Buffalo wings, and a large plate of nachos.

  “Good,” I replied. We were at a favorite new hangout of mine called the Wild River Saloon. Phoenix, my new prez, had introduced me to the place and I was now bartending there part-time. Today was my day off and Tank, the president of the Iowa chapter of the Gold Vipers (also a good friend of mine), was in town and checking on things.

  Tank smiled. “I noticed didn’t give me hell about calling you Tarot.”

  I shrugged. “It’s growing on me. Just don’t expect me to read your future in ‘the cards’. I can already tell you now, it won’t be a long one.”

  Tank chuckled. “So, is the club accepting you as the new VP without any issues?”

  “Yeah. I think they’re more relieved than anything, to be honest,” I replied. “Not to mention, they have a lot of admiration for you, brother.”

  Tank nodded. “Good to know.”

  I’d been brought into the club after Phoenix’s guys had been patched over by the Gold Vipers. Prior to that, I’d been a nomad and had traveled from city-to-city, helping out the Gold Vipers wherever and whenever needed. It had gotten old, though, and now that I was pushing thirty, the idea of moving around so much was no longer appealing.

  “You obviously know why I recommended you to them,” he said, dipping his wing into a small bowl of ranch dressing, “their club was out of control before we patched them over. I knew they needed someone with a clear head to help run things. And,” he lowered his voice, “don’t get me wrong. I like Phoenix, but he’s still pretty wet behind the ears, especially to be running a club.”

  Tank was right. I liked Phoenix, too, but he was the first to admit that he’d taken control of the reins too quickly. He was a good kid though, and in time, would gain more confidence and respect from everyone.

  “Yeah. He’s a little green, but I can tell he’s trying, which I admire,” I said, taking a swig of beer.

  “Good. So, are things are quiet right now?”

  “Yeah. It’s odd, considering all the shit that went down with the Blood Angels. I’m a little surprised that they haven’t tried anything.”

  “That’s because they’re paranoid now that we’ve patched over the Steel Bandits,” he replied with a smirk. “You fuck with the Gold Vipers and you may as well start pricing out your own tombstone.”

  I liked to think that my new club had seen the last of the Blood Angels, but there was too much animosity between everyone. And, from what I’d learned, they were ignorant fucks who didn’t know when to quit.

  “Hey, sweetheart, can we get two more beers?” Tank asked the waitress, who was walking by.

  “Of course. Coming right up,” she replied, smiling.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  “Phoenix is itching to make a move,” I said, watching Tank eat. “He’s still pretty wrecked about Tom.”

  Tom was the previous president. He’d also been Phoenix’s mentor and, apparently, his biological father. He’d just learned the news before the Blood Angels had ordered a hit on Tom and his ailing wife. I understood why he wanted revenge, but we needed to get approval from the mother chapter before moving forward.

  Tank licked his fingers and grabbed another wing. “I’m sure he does. You know where they’ve moved their clubhouse to yet?”

  “Yeah, rumor has it that they’re in Cloquet.” I grabbed a chip. “We don’t know for sure, though.”

  “Where’s that?”

  I finished chewing and answered. “North of here. Roughly two hours.”

  He nodded toward the beer. “You like it?”

  “Yeah, it’s good. This is the first time I’ve tried it. We just got them in.”

  “Perfect timing. I’m hooked, now. My brother-in-law introduced me. Anyway,” he took a swig of beer, “I’m going to put in a call to Bastard as soon as we get out of here. See what he thinks about the situation.”

  Bastard was the president of the Gold Vipers’ Mother Chapter out in Sacramento. He was level-headed and didn’t like to take too many risks. If he did agree on making a move, there couldn’t be any mistakes, and it would have to be very well organized.

  “Okay,” I replied as the waitress returned with two more beers. “Thanks, Kelly.”

  She set them down in front of us and smiled flirtatiously at Tank. “So, where you from, handsome?”

  “Iowa,” he replied, smiling back.

  “I see you’re a Gold Viper, too,” she said, putting a hand on her waist.

  “Yep,” he replied, pulling out a large chip filled with cheese and lettuce. He shoved it into his mouth and chewed quietly.

  Smiling, Kelly, looked at me. “He’s kind of like you. Not much of a talker.”

  It was true. I was quiet and mostly kept to myself. The truth was, I’d grown up in a houseful of gabby sisters and was a better listener than a conversationalist. Tank, on the other hand, wasn’t usually quiet. Something was on his mind, though. I sensed it. And it was more than just club business.

  “Tank, quiet? That’s a good one,” I replied before raising the beer back to my lips. “You feeling okay, brother?”

  Tank shrugged. “I’m good. Just beat from the long drive. And… I was up early this morning with Sophie.”

  Sophie was Tank’s baby girl and the spitting image of Raina, his wife. Dark hair, big blue eyes, and a smile that would always get her what she wanted. Right now, she had Tank wrapped around her little finger and could barely crawl.

  “Who’s Sophie? Your kid?” asked Kelly.

  “One of them. I also have a son named Billy,” said Tank.

  He’d adopted Billy after marrying Raina. Billy had been from a previous marriage, but Tank adored the boy, and the feeling was mutual.

  “You married then?” Kelly asked, looking more interested than ever.

  I sighed inwardly. This would mean a challenge for Kelly, who had some destructive tendencies. She was unhappy in her own life, and used sex and drugs to self-medicate. Most thought she was just a fun-loving party girl who loved sex, but I sensed there was a lot of pain behind that bittersweet smile of hers.

  “Yeah,” said Tank. He gave me a curious look, as if wondering what her deal was.

  She looked at his cut. “You have your motorcycle parked outside?”

  “I do, why?” he answered.

  “Mm… I’d love to go for a ride,” said Kelly, batting her fake eyelashes at him. “I haven’t been on a bike for some time. I bet yours is… big and shiny.”

  I rubbed my forehead, almost embarrassed for her.

  “Oh, shit. Sorry, darlin’,” Tank said with an apologetic grin. “Like I said, I’m married and nobody rides on the back of my bike but my Old Lady.”

  Her lips curled into a pout. “That’s too bad. I was hoping to cook you breakfast tomorrow morning.”

  “I’m flattered, but there’s only one woman for me and she could shoot a speck on a fly,” he replied. “So, I prefer to stay on her good side.”

  “Okay. You change your mind, though, let me know,” she replied, winking at him.

  “You’ll be the first,” he said.

  She walked away, her hips swinging more than usual.

  “Hell.” Tank smiled and shook his head. “Before I met Raina, I’d have been all over that.”

  “A lot of people have already been all over that,” I replied. “Raina just saved you a tetanus shot.”

  Tank chuckled. “So, you haven’t touched her?”

  “Hell no,” I said, watching as Kelly began flirting with a table of regulars. “For one, I never fuck anyone I work with. For two, that chick has a lot of unpacked baggage.”

  “I figured that might be the case. She was trying too hard,” Tank replied
, taking another swig of beer.

  “Always does.” I cleared my throat. “So, fess up. What’s bothering you?”

  “Bothering me? Nothing,” he replied, suddenly looking distracted.

  “You’ll talk when you’re ready,” I said matter-of-factly.

  Staring at his beer, he sighed. “I guess I should know better than to try and pretend around you.” He looked at me. “It’s not so much that I have something to get off my chest. I’m just wondering about a couple of things.”

  I suddenly knew what he was talking about. “You want to know if I can communicate with the dead.”

  His eyes looked like two round saucers. “How the fuck do you do that?”

  Smiling, I shrugged. “It just came to me. The answer is ‘no’, though. I’m sorry, brother, but I’m not a medium.”

  Tank nodded slowly. “No problem.”

  I grabbed another nacho. “Tell you what, if I ever do get a message from Slammer, you’ll be the first to know.”

  “I know you will.”

  “What’s this about? Raina?” I asked between chews.

  “Yeah. I just want him to know, if he’s out there, how much she regrets what she did.”

  “I’m sure he knows,” I replied.

  Raina had been the one who’d killed his old man, Slammer. She’d been under the assumption that he’d been responsible for her son being shot. So, she’d murdered him in cold blood.

  Not many of the Gold Vipers knew this; those who did had forgiven her, for the most part. I certainly didn’t hold it against her. It had been a crime of passion, and she’d acted out of deep pain, believing that her son was dead.

  In the end, her son had survived and it was found that the Devil’s Rangers had framed Slammer.

  Realizing that she’d made a horrible mistake, Raina was riddled with guilt and regret. But, love conquers all, which is why she was now Tank’s wife and mother to his children.

  “Maybe,” he murmured softly, picking at the wrapper on his beer.

  My cell phone suddenly went off. It was a number I didn’t recognize with a California area code.

  “Go ahead and answer it,” said Tank, getting up. “I’ve got to take a leak.”

 

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