Lessons In Corruption (The Fallen Men Series Book 1)

by Giana Darling

  “We increase funding to the police department, for one,” Mayor Lafayette said with a winning smile. He gestured towards the lineup of policemen standing to his left side on the stage. They were all relatively young and absurdly beautiful. I knew the mayor himself had probably gone down to Entrance Bay Police station to hand-pick the prettiest cops for his dog and pony show.

  “We will also be urging establishments to take down their ‘biker friendly’ signs,” the mayor continued.

  “That’s horseshit,” someone called from the audience.

  There was a chorus of agreement.

  The mayor opened his mouth to respond when the old oak doors at the back of the hall swung open with an atmospheric creak and the bikers appeared.

  Zeus led the small collection of The Fallen down the central red carpet, through the rows of civilians until he stopped directly at my row. The hushed interest of the congregation was thick around us as he put a hand on my shoulder before glaring at the people sitting in the row next to Tayline and me.

  Immediately, they scrambled to their feet and moved towards the edges of the hall where the overflow of people remained standing.

  “Scoot over, teach,” Zeus told me in his super badass biker growl.

  I immediately did as I was told.

  Harleigh Rose peered around her dad’s shoulder to grin at me. “Sup, Queenie?”

  “Hey honey,” I whispered as she moved onto the wood bench beside me.

  She took my hand immediately between two of her own. I felt the tremor in her hold and squeezed her tighter.

  King nodded at me as he took his seat beside Zeus. His eyes were perforated with unease as Nova, Bat, Buck and Priest settled in after him. I wondered if it was because, in sitting with me so publically, they were inexorably linking me to the MC and given the current climate, King was worried about what that would mean for me, or if I would be angry over the display of ownership.

  I wasn’t. My righteous fury had been ignited by the mayor’s witch-hunt against The Fallen. Not only did I want everyone to know where I stood, which was interminably beside the bikers, beside King, but also that I would tear into anyone who claimed they were involved with Benny’s incident.

  “Yes, good to see you taking part in the community in a legal and civil manner, Mr. Garro,” Mayor Lafayette finally said, addressing the elephants that had stomped in the room on their loud motorcycle boots. “Maybe you’d like to say something about your part in the increase of narcotics in this town.”

  “Mayor, this isn’t the time or the place,” a handsome blond policeman stepped forward to say quietly.

  “Danner, if I wanted your opinion, I’d ask your daddy for it,” the mayor ground out.

  Ouch. That was not only unnecessary but also cruel

  I really didn’t like Mayor Lafayette.

  “I’m happy to talk to folks, Mayor,” Zeus spoke clearly, loud enough to reach the far sides of the auditorium and not need a microphone. “They know I’m always up at Hephaestus Auto or at Eugene’s havin’ a beer. They got somethin’ to say, I’m around.”

  “Do you have anything to say now that one of our children is in the hospital recovering from a drug-related incident?” the mayor said between his teeth.

  Zeus affected a hurt expression. “Well, of course I feel for the boy and his family. Queenie,” he dropped his arm around Harleigh Rose so his fingers could sweep over my shoulder, “and my boy, King, were the ones to find him. Cress stayed at the hospital all night ‘cause she’s real close to the kid.”

  “And your involvement?” the mayor prompted.

  Officer Danner shifted uncomfortably behind me.

  The auditorium was quiet as a gravesite, watching the standoff between the two leaders of their community.

  A slow, predatory smile cut through Zeus’s harsh, handsome features. Light glinted off his teeth, set fire to his pale eyes so that he seemed like the Devil sitting in a church, daring God to smite him.

  “Don’t got any involvement other than that, Mayor Lafayette, and don’t much appreciate your insinuation. I’m an active member in this community. I’m a business owner and a father. My daughter goes to Entrance Public and my son goes to EBA. I even pay my fuckin’ taxes on time each year. I hope you’re not insinuatin’ that just ‘cause I’m a member of a recreational motorcycle club, I’d be involved in somethin’ like drug distribution?”

  “I think that’s exactly what he was insinuating, Zeus,” Stella said, still standing.

  “You haven’t had problems with the MC in years, Benjamin,” an older man stood up to say.

  “Yeah, well, we’re having them now, John,” someone else yelled out from behind us.

  “You got questions for me, Sergeant,” Zeus said, his low voice undercutting the increasing chatter. “You come ask ‘em. This public fuckin’ defamation is grounds for me to sue the city.”

  I pursed my lips because I wasn’t sure that was true but it seemed like a good threat.

  The Staff Sergeant stepped forward from the lineup with his thumbs in the belt loops of his uniform. He was the officer in charge of the small RCMP outpost in town and from what I heard, he was a member of the old school policing mentality. He did not like Zeus or The Fallen and it was obvious by the displeasure that creased the plethora of lines across his face that this apathy had reached new heights.

  “Trust me, I’ll find a way to get you into the station for some questions,” he promised darkly, leaning over Mayor Lafayette to speak into the microphone.

  “We have a list of businesses who will no longer accept your bikers as clients,” the mayor added. “You might want to spread the word to the rest of your gang. Entrance is no longer putting up with drug dealers and ruffians. Until our streets are clean, you’re the ones we’re looking at.”

  “Now,” Mayor Lafayette announced before Zeus could respond. “Let’s open the floor to questions.”

  As chaos erupted around us, Zeus turned to his crew and said quietly, “You heard the motherfucker, we find whoever is selling kids fuckin’ fentanyl and we end this.”

  A shiver ripped up my spine like something had taken a knife to my vertebrae. I locked eyes with King and saw the violence in his, the promise to enact the kind of retribution I’d only read about in novels or seen on TV. I didn’t feel in any way prepared to deal with the side of biker life, but it seemed I had to be ready whether I wanted to or not.

  Nervously, I waited for King later that night in the second bedroom I’d made into a little office. The room was cold because the entire back wall of windows extended into the room and the insulation was poor, though King had mentioned bringing in a few of the brothers to help us fix it.

  I shook my head at my use of the plural. Since I’d given into his sinful temptations, we hadn’t spent a single night apart. It was strange to spend so much domestic time with a man other than William. I’d known everything about my husband and had taken most of it for granted just as he did with me. I wanted to say it was something that happened gradually over time, but that obsessive passion that made even the little moments together glow like faceted jewels had never existed between us, not even when I was young and especially eager to please.

  It was not this way with King. I was fascinated, time after time, by his nightly routine. Mostly, he didn’t have one. Each evening when he arrived at my house, always after me because he had club business and his job at Hephaestus to attend to after school, we did something different. One night, he stormed into the house, literally threw me over his shoulder and took me for a ride up and down the Sea to Sky Highway, all the way to Whistler and back. The next, he brought home burgers from Stella’s because he had remembered I wanted to try them, and we watched Sons Of Anarchy on Netflix because I’d told him I was doing research and it had made him laugh. One night, we went to Eugene’s and shot the shit (a term I learned from Tayline who was my biker babe guru) with some of the guys and their old ladies, including Maja, Lila and Skell’s woman, Winona (who w
as horrible, but I still felt badly for her because Skell was an animal and slept with anything in a skirt).

  It was only just before bed that King succumbed to routine like a normal person and it was this that I loved to watch. He peeled out of his clothes in under twenty seconds as if once he had made the decision to undress, he couldn’t bear to have the clothes on him any longer. He always left them in the same corner of the closet (because he wasn’t a pig, he’d told me when I asked him about it) and then moved into the bathroom to brush and, I couldn’t believe it either, floss his teeth.

  My badass biker king flossed his teeth.

  It explained why he had such pretty canines but still, it always made me laugh to see him dutifully care for his teeth.

  I was tugged from my contemplation as the screen door at the side of the house opened with a soft screech, then the main door after that. King never used the front door. When I’d asked him why, he explained that only guests use the front door. It was a weird philosophy but I kind of liked it.

  “Cress, babe?” he called out.

  Even in the two words, I could hear his frustration with the events of the last thirty-six hours. I wanted to take his burden away from him and I thought I had the perfect idea of how to do it, which was why I was perched on the edge of my desk in the freezing study.

  “In here,” I called, my voice unintentionally husky with anticipation.

  My heart palpitated unevenly as the steady thump of his boots grew closer. When he rounded the corner, I had to catch my breath at how stunning he was. The impact of his masculine beauty affected me the same way every time I saw him, if it was minutes, hours or days since I last laid eyes on him. He was just that beautiful, and I was just that sunk.

  “What do we have here?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe in a grease-smeared tee and his favorite old blue jeans. His hair was in disarray, loose around his shoulders but so blond it glowed even in the low light from the single desk lamp I’d turned on.

  I licked my lips at the thought of the game I’d set in motion.

  “I came to talk to you about that extra credit you said I could earn,” I said, looking up at him through my eyelashes as I wiggled my hips coquettishly back and forth. The movement swished my little plaid skirt over the sensitive skin of my thighs and made me shiver.

  He hadn’t specified plaid in his fantasy but I thought it was appropriate.

  I watched his eyes crackle and burn, like fire caught in ice. They swept over my outfit from head to toe, taking in the tight blouse tied under my breasts, the knee-high, navy blue socks and little Mary Janes I wore because I didn’t own sexy heels. His gaze lingered over my pigtails, tied with navy blue ribbon into big bows at each end.

  “Well, little Miss Irons, I’m not sure you’re up for the assignment. It’s quite… hard,” he said, humor and desire ripe in his voice.

  I loved that about him, that he could make sex delicious as well as fun.

  He walked with purpose around me to sit down in the chair behind the desk.

  “Well, did you do as I asked?” he asked.

  I fidgeted. “What do you mean, Mr. Garro?”

  “Are you wearing panties?”

  I swallowed. “No, sir, I’m sorry. I didn’t have any clean cotton panties so I thought it best I didn’t wear any at all.”

  His face darkened, his beautiful mouth twisting into an ugly sneer that made my thighs quiver. “That’s very disappointing, Miss Irons. I’m going to have to punish you for that. You say you want extra credit but then you don’t come prepared… how does that show me that you’re committed to getting better grades?”

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered and I found that I was, desperately sorry and so eager to please that my mouth watered at the thought of how he might use me.

  He sighed as if I were an annoying child. “Come here and lay across my lap.”

  I shivered as I made my way to him and awkwardly placed myself over his groin. The feel of his thick cock under my belly made me wiggle against it.

  “Be still,” he ordered as he flipped up my skirt to reveal my bare ass. He tsked, but his hand came out to rub over the naked globes. “Was really lookin’ forward to those panties.”

  I bit my lip to keep from groaning when I saw him reach out to grab the wooden ruler I’d purposely left on the desk earlier.

  He tested it on his palm, the harsh snap making me jump, and he chuckled.

  “I’m going to spank you for each time you disobeyed me in class, Miss Irons. Do you remember how often that was?”

  “I think it was twenty times,” I answered immediately.

  “Hmm, don’t think so. Let’s try ten.”

  The first crack of the wooden ruler slapped against my ass with a loud thwack. It rocked me forward against King’s erection in a delicious way that had me thursting for the next strike.

  “Good fuckin’ girl,” he growled, losing his character as he beat back and forth over my ass cheeks with the wicked little ruler.

  My ass was on fire by the time the tenth spank landed and I was about to beg King to fuck me, but he was already lifting me off his lap to stand before him.

  He stared up at me with his desire bright eyes, a flush streaked high across his brutal cheekbones. “Take out my cock and ride me. Wanna see you fuck yourself on my cock.”

  Immediately, my hands were at his belt and I was straddling his lap, hissing when I slammed myself down on his cock. I couldn’t take him all the way, a fact that made me writhe and moan helplessly on top of him.

  “So fucking tight,” he gritted out, his hands going to my hips to help pull me up and down over him. “Need to loosen that tight little pussy. Want you to take me to the root.”

  I threw my head back and moaned at his words. Eager to help, I wrapped my fingers in his thick hair as leverage to throw myself down on his thrust.

  He reached up to play with my nipples, rolling them between his fingers.

  “Harder,” I begged, riding him faster now.

  His cock stretched me so full that my legs were already shaking with the need to come.

  “God, harder,” I begged again then hissed when he reared up to bite hard on one nipple while we twisted the other in a tight pinch.

  “Come in the next thirty seconds, I’ll give you that extra credit,” he ground out between biting my diamond hard peaks.

  I made it there in ten.

  I shrieked as I came hard all over his big cock, my legs shaking, pussy clenching against him like a vice.

  “That’s it, come all over me, show me how much you love it,” he goaded me as I slammed my hips down over and over.

  He slapped his hands over my ass, one at a time on each cheek. The pain made me cum harder, longer. I was sobbing, begging him to stop.

  “No,” he laughed then pinched my clit tight between his fingers so that I shouted and another, smaller orgasm raced through me.

  “Cress,” he shouted, slamming into me one last time as he found his own climax.

  “Fuck,” I gasped after a few minutes, collapsing on top of him.

  King ran his fingers soothingly over my tingly bottom and pressed kisses to my shoulders.

  “Never would have thought, lookin’ as pretty as a royalty like you do with all that golden hair and those big, innocent eyes, in those sweet little teacher outfits that you’d fuck as hard as you do. Gotta say, babe, I fuckin’ love it.”

  I smiled into his hair, my exhaustion making me honest. “Are you sure it’ll be enough to satisfy you? You’re a young stud. I’m keeping you from sowing your wild oats and all that.”

  His laughed vibrated through me. “Don’t wanna make you mad when I got you all sweet in my lap but, babe, trust me, I sowed a ton of fuckin’ oats before I met you.”

  I harrumphed, but his laugh eased the edge of my grumpiness. “Might get tired of me, is all I’m saying,” I mumbled, both embarrassed and sleepy.

  His hands stroked up my back and wound me in a full body hug. “Might
get tired but never of you.”

  “Meant to tell you,” I said as my eyes drifted closed, secure enough in his arms to fall asleep like a baby. “William keeps calling me. He’s even leaving me messages at the front desk at EBA. Today there was a present on the front steps.”

  “Did you open it?” he asked, now tense as a board beneath me.

  I was too tired to do anything but move my hands lazily through his masses of soft, curly hair and hum. “So sleepy.”

  “Where did you put it, Cress?” he demanded.

  “’S in the kitchen,” I said but I was already mostly asleep.

  I woke up again when he settled into bed, much later, beside me. The alarm clock read 3:43 in bold, green numbers.

  “Where’d you go?” I whispered with my eyes closed as he dragged me across the sheets and settled me over his body like a second blanket.

  His skin was cold and he smelled of the cold night outside.

  “Just takin’ care of somethin’ that needed fixin’,” he told me in a voice that was hoarse, as if he’d been yelling.

  “Did you leave the house?” I asked, frowning and wanting to talk about it but my eyes wouldn’t open and sleep was pulling me back into its deep embrace.

  “No one sends my woman presents but me,” he murmured softly some minutes later, squeezing me tight and pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

  But I was too far gone, so I didn’t respond.

  It was late, sometime in the hours pressed like a book between the pages of night and morning, a pause of time each day where nothing is supposed to happen but quiet contemplation and sleep.

  In The Fallen Clubhouse, neither of those things were happening.

  Old school rock music throbbed through the clubhouse like a heartbeat, keeping the ebb and flow of movement through the brick, windowless house and its surrounding areas in cadence. It was easy to get caught up in that beat, to lose sight of your inhibitions to the hedonistic currents riding like a subliminal message on the coattails of the Rolling Stones, AC/DC and Guns ‘N Roses.