Let's Ride (Legion of Guardians Book 2)

by Xyla Turner

  Let’s Ride: Legion of Guardians MC

  Xyla Turner

  Contents

  Let’s Ride

  Copyright

  Also by Xyla Turner

  Acknowledgments

  1. Fill In

  2. Spilled the Beans

  3. Let it Go

  4. Problem is, She’s Mine

  5. A Gun?

  6. Amends

  7. No Take Backs

  8. New Man

  9. Snoring

  10. Helping Hands

  11. Smittne

  12. The Parents

  13. Protect

  14. Finally

  15. We Good?

  Sneak Peek: Book 4 in the Legion of Guardian’s Series

  About the Author

  Also by Xyla Turner

  XYLA’S CONTACT INFORMATION

  Let’s Ride

  Legion of Guardians MC Series

  By Xyla Turner

  AZINA MEDIA PUBLICATIONS

  237 Flatbush Avenue, #187 Brooklyn, NY 11217

  This is an original publication of AZINA MEDIA PUBLICATIONS.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  Copyright © 2016 AZINA MEDIA PUBLICATIONS

  Cover Page by Taria A. Reed

  Edited by Pure Harmony Literary Services

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized edits.

  All rights reserved.

  Created with Vellum

  Also by Xyla Turner

  Series: Stand-Alone Novels

  10:80: Line of Duty Series

  10-99: Line of Duty Series

  By Chance, No Choice: Stetson Series

  Under Further Review: The Pro Series

  Just Ride: Legion of Guardians MC (eBook & Audio)

  Let’s Ride: Legion of Guardians MC

  Love Under Attack: FRCC Series

  Series Books:

  The Chase, Part I & II: The Double XX Series

  Bookstore Chronicles I, II, III

  Non-Series Book:

  BOMBSHELL

  Across the Tracks

  Power of the Pen

  Extraction

  Acknowledgments

  To my family, friends, co-workers, supporters, and fellow authors!

  To the fans of Just Ride!

  Xyla World, this couldn’t happen without you.

  Shatisha Nash, the one and only cabinet member in Xyla World. You are beyond a life-saver. I appreciate all you do! Thank you for your support and honoring my last minute request.

  To my sister, thank you for your support and putting up with me.

  #OnOurWay

  To Him that gives me wings to fly!

  1

  Fill In

  Shay:

  “What's wrong?” Greg asked as I laid across his bare chest with my elbows sticking out and my balled fist under my chin.

  “Nothing, just thinking about Lori.” I murmured so I wouldn't have to lift my head to talk.

  He was comfortable, physically and emotionally, for the moment at least.

  “You still haven't heard from her?” He asked, his smooth voice laced with concern.

  I wasn't certain if his distress was for Lori or me. Everybody in and out of town knew what Apollo had said and done. It had been almost six months, and I had yet to utter a word to the bastard.

  My girl, Kylie, said that was all she did was utter something his way, just so there was no issue with her fiancée Razor. His given name was Xander Willis, but his Legion of Guardians MC name was Razor, and he was their president.

  There were biker clubs and gangs all around the Manor area, but the Guardians were my favorite. I had no problems admitting my bias, but they were the best of the best in whatever field they worked in. They weren't just bikers, but they had a mission, and they did that no matter what it took. Including saving my girl Kylie, when her ex-band mate kidnapped her and almost beat the shit out of her. Not only were the Guardians not okay with domestic abuse, but she also belonged to Razor, and he personally beat the shit out of the man. Almost killed him.

  If it wasn't for the man whose name I don't say; if he weren’t there that man would be dead, and Razor would be locked up and not running his businesses or making my girl the happiest she's ever been.

  I, on the other hand, was quite happy after two toe-curling orgasms and a few slaps on my ass. Greg was on it today, but that was our game. Meet up, fuck and go the hell home or continue doing what we came for. We often occupied bathrooms, closets, cars and a few times in an alley. This had been going on for about nine months, and it wasn't old just yet, but I had an inkling that Greg was trying to tell me something. Probably some shit I didn't want to hear.

  “No, there has been no word at all,” I answered him.

  Lori’s parents had to know where she was at, but they weren’t saying a thing. Kylie went so far as to hire the Guardians to find her, but Lori’s father got wind of that and kindly asked that we let her be, so she could get the healing that she needed.

  “Want to talk about it?” Greg interrupted my thoughts.

  Uh, no.

  I uncurled my fist, pushed away from him and said, “We said no beds, Greg. This can't happen again.”

  Moving off the bed, I pulled on my thong, shorts, and t-shirt. My tingling fingers smoothed out the loose hair that tended to fly and stay out of place as I slipped my sandals on.

  “Did I say something?” He pulled up in a seated position on the mattress.

  “Nope, this was supposed to be simple, remember. Fuck and be gone. Your words. But no bed. We’re in a bed.”

  I waved my hand towards his day bed that was against the wall in the house he shared with his sister. She was at work, and this was our lunch break. Greg was a volunteer firefighter for Manor and therefore did not have a steady gig. In his spare time, he worked construction in various places, so it was not odd for him to be off during the middle of the day. My boring ass job involved me sitting behind a desk, shuffling papers and forwarding travel nurses to their next destination.

  “Okay.” His eyes lowered when he said, “You do know we've been doing this for almost a year now? Don't you think we’ve moved we’re past the stupid rules?”

  I stopped moving mid-bend to grab my messenger bag.

  “Past what?” My voice was suddenly curt and very clear.

  “Fuck,” he murmured. “Shay, shouldn't we be past this shit right here. Still fucking in bathrooms, against walls, bushes, and shit. We’re not fucking kids hiding from mommy and daddy or big brother. What? Does Razor have a claim over your pussy too?”

  No the FUCK he didn't.

  One family curse that ran through my family was the way our emotions would clearly display on our faces.

  My head reared back, almost violently, just as Greg stood up with his hands in the air.

  “Wait, I'm…” he started to say, but I stepped closer to him and slowly moved my hand up his hard chest, only to display one single finger in his face.

  The middle one.

  “Fuck you, Greg.” I enunciated every word, turned on my heels and left.

  Big brother?
>
  Claim?

  Fucking, asshole.

  Those were the only words that turned over and over in my head as I marched back to work. Orgasm was forgotten along with another man that would probably lose the right for his name to pass my lips.

  Men, why even bother? This was why what Greg, and I had was great. Maybe once every week or two, we'd hook up, but lately, he was calling more often and then today, he “runs” into me on my lunch break and brings me back to his place.

  Ugh.

  I didn't need complicated, or even sophisticated. I just needed to get laid regularly, and I was good. No drama, no relationship, no one knew so no one could be in my damn business. Kylie and Lori didn't even know who it was.

  Honestly, I just couldn't bare the humiliation or heartache after what the Vice-president of the Guardians pulled on me. I swear I was in love with him, just like Lori loved Apollo. At the time, I tracked all of his (Bronx) movements, made sure I was at the same place with him, and I was in his presence. The first couple of months, he ignored me until I turned the heat up on his ass.

  One drunken night, at Peppers, I gave him a lap dance and kissed him like my life depended on it. To my surprise and dismay, Bronx slapped me on the ass when I finished and sent me home in a cab. I had hoped he hadn't adopted Razor’s model of not messing with younger women. It wasn't that I was in my early twenties, but even early thirties for some of the bikers was young. It made sense; I knew I could be a Petty Betty, slightly immature and vengeful. When I wanted to, of course.

  After Bronx sent me home, I tried to lay low due to the embarrassment, but that would only work so much because Lori wanted to see Apollo and Kylie was still on tour. Then on that dreaded night, after I worked really hard trying to forget his rejection, as soon as I walked through the doors of Peppers, I was swung around and pulled outside by Bronx.

  In all my sass, I jerked my arm loose and asked, “May I help you? Don't worry; I'm not giving out lap dances tonight to people that aren't interested in what I'm offering.”

  His head tilted to the side as his heavy eyes seemed to see directly through me. “That's what you think?”

  I loved his voice. It wasn't gravelly like Razors, but gruff and deep like I loved in my men. Probably, because my father and uncles had similarly modulated tones that demonstrated their control. They say girls look for their fathers and guys look for their mothers as mates. I took a few psychology courses at the community college, right after high school. I figured I would try to at least see what I liked and didn't like. That was easy, and it wasn't psychology. I thought about nursing or pediatrics, so that was how I ended up at the doctor’s office. Unfortunately, I became complacent, and the thought remained just that.

  A thought.

  “It’s what happened, Bronx.” I said as he continued to push me outside towards his bike.

  He was dressed in dark jeans, a checkered shirt and he had on his cut. His sultry cologne was intoxicating, and I swear it clouded my judgment.

  Bronx swung his long leg over the bike as I stood in front and eyed him suspiciously.

  “Get on,” he commanded.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “I want more than just a tease. You ready for that?” One of his eyebrows raised. “You rubbing on my dick is nice but can you ride it? Take it? Anywhere?”

  Holy shit.

  My panties were instantly wet as I stood in the cool air rubbing my legs together to relieve the ache the bald man started between my legs.

  “Only one way to find out.” I walked to the back of the bike and swung my leg over the center. “You better make it worth my while.”

  He laughed, started the ignition and drove off.

  We went to my place since it was closer than his, but I thought he did it so I would feel more comfortable. The weird part was that he already knew where I lived and instead of sending chills down my spine, my panties continued to get wet.

  Bronx more than delivered that night, even though he didn’t put his dick everywhere. I thought he meant anal, which I had yet to do, and he could probably tell that since the third round was from the back, and he kept rubbing his finger around my tight hole. Shit, I would have tried, but the man was huge.

  When we were done, he laid in the bed, pulled me close to him, and we fell asleep. I thought he would have left, but I was praying he didn’t. I had dreamed of Bronx taking me like that, staying in my bed, fucking my brains out and doing it again in the morning after I made him breakfast. My mind went there because he was holding me so tight. Who would have known he was a cuddler?

  Then the dreaded call happened, and he had to miraculously go.

  Who did he think I was?

  I felt so humiliated and played.

  Played like a damn fool.

  I lost my shit on him, threw his clothes and sent him on his fucking way. He was dead to me, and I cried myself to sleep murmuring those very words all that night.

  That was four fucking years ago.

  Over the past year, since I was more involved with Guardian shit because Kylie was the Pres’ old lady, I was around Bronx a lot. We only had a couple of run-ins but besides that we avoided each other like the plague.

  One night he was drunk as shit, and nobody was around, and although I should have left his ass at Peppers, I didn’t. Big Joey helped him get in my car, and somehow, I got his ass to my couch, where he passed out until the next morning. When I woke, there was a note that said, “Thanks.”

  He was already gone.

  I just shook my head and tried to forget that I had a heart.

  My last encounter with the Guardian’s VP sort of left me, speechless. It was the night the Apollo had annihilated Lori, and I completely lost my shit. Earlier that evening, Mr. VP stopped some guy from trying to talk to me by using his intimidating presence and hovering near our table. The poor guy didn’t even stand a chance and we wouldn’t have worked anyway if he let some other guy run him off. However, the point being, Mr. VP and I were nothing, so his presence wasn’t welcomed. I got in his face about it, and he barked back at me. Said something about sashaying my men in front of him. Bronx had never talked to me like that before, so it caught me off guard.

  It must have been a full moon that evening because Bronx and I weren’t done arguing yet. After I went to rip Apollo’s jugular vein out of his skin, Bronx carried me out of Peppers, slapped me on the ass and started to scold me for being so impulsive. I had the distinct feeling he was talking about other things, but I was semi-drunk, so I tried to broach the conversation with him, but he cut me right off and asked, “You wanna have this dance?”

  The way he said it made me think twice about going there with him. He seemed pissed and not about me going off on his friend but something else. That was nearly a year ago, which was the last time I was on his bike. Since he didn't trust me to go home, he put me on his bike and brought me home. Just as he was about to go into the dance, he received a call and had to leave.

  No surprise there.

  Lately, I was feeling discontent, and I had an inkling to make some changes.

  Just an inkling.

  At that moment, I was okay with shuffling papers, just like I was okay with screwing a steady guy for nine damn months.

  Who does that?

  “Hey, you’re back so soon,” Oscar, the security guard, greeted. “Get a little in for me?”

  I threw my straw at him as I walked passed the security desk.

  “Shut up,” I hissed.

  “Well, did ya?” He kept at it.

  Oscar always knew when I got some action during lunch because he said my hair no longer looked like the perfection that I walked in with. Everyone who really knew me knew I took hours doing my hair. I refused to get a perm or relaxer for my thick locks, so I was forced to straighten, braid or twist the beehive into miraculous wonders. Lori and Kylie always called me crazy for waking up at six in the morning just to do my hair, but I always told them, these were my black girl problems. They needed
to read some of our natural hair magazines or watch YouTube.

  I recently made Kylie spend the night with me and sit in the bathroom while I took one hour and ten minutes to straighten my hair and apply my makeup.

  She fell asleep twice and said that if she had to do that every fucking morning, she'd do a Sinead O’Connor and cut the shit off. Razor might have had a problem with that, but he'd take her any way he got her. She was the one to break the President’s rule about younger women. He was forty-four with a birthday coming up, and she was thirty-three, the same age as me.

  “Yup,” I put my nose in the air and walked to the stairwell of the small office space and went back to my cubicle.

  But not before I heard Oscar, mutter, “bitch.”

  He was our trust security guard, and he'd been there as long as I had. We were friendly and sometimes talked since I was often bored out of my mind. Manor wasn't known for their high traffic of nurses.

  Oscar was having a dry spell lately and tried to live vicariously through anyone who was having sex. Which was everyone except for him. Even our librarian was getting it in with someone, because the woman stayed with a scarf around her neck, in some crazy attempt to hide hickeys.

  When I reached my desk, I called Kylie at Peppers. She was the event coordinator there, so her hours started around noon.

  “Hey, girl?” She answered.

  “Hey,” I replied. “Still no word from Lori? She's been on my mind lately.”

  “I know,” her voice dropped as she continued. “Razor told me he thinks she went away to get help, and that's why her parents called a meeting with the Guardians so they wouldn't look for her.”

  “Really?” I gasped.

  “Yeah, but that's between us.” Her voice was still low.

  “Gotcha.”

  That bit of news provided an ounce of relief because it was yet another clue about why our friend just up and left without so much as a word. Why that took six damn months was absurd.