Wild Rides: 10 Blazing Hot Alpha Bad Boy Biker and MC Romance Box Set

by Dez Burke

  Some sweet merciful gods had given me a body women wanted since I bulked up like a man, and years in the club had hardened it to perfection. I should've been out fucking every night.

  But casual hookups got old the older I got.

  I'd never admit it to my brothers, let alone a hookup, but I was ready for something else. Pop wouldn't be around forever. His marriage with my junkie mom didn't last long, and he never went steady after that.

  When he was retired and dead, I'd be the last Shields on earth. Not unless I found an old lady to claim, a beautiful baby girl to make lots of babies early and often.

  Something about the idea of breeding like a tiger with the right mate turned my cock to steel. I stretched out on my old bed, patting the lump in my jeans with one hand.

  Patience. Soon as this shit with the Skulls clears up, I'm gonna beat all these little personal demons cold.

  I closed my eyes and tried to sleep. It wasn't easy with adrenaline and desire jacking up my blood, especially when I saw Rachel's tight young body every time my eyes twitched.

  III: Rabbit in a Wolves' Den (Rachel)

  I don't know how the hell I went to sleep that night, but I did.

  Frannie's T.L.C. helped me more than I could've imagined. So did Jack's touch. The way he whispered to me and held me close took me far away.

  In his arms, hell didn't burn so hot anymore.

  I almost forgot about Dad's betrayal, and that messy ride with the Skulls. Almost.

  I slept long and hard, way past noon. Remembering everything hit me in an awful rush.

  Jesus. It's not a nightmare after all. What the fuck am I gonna do now?

  Taking the pillows close to my face, I tried to blunt my crying and screaming, but of course I fell flat on my face.

  Frannie was in the room across the hall, and she heard everything.

  Next thing I knew, there was this big, kind lump sitting next to me, slowly stroking me back to sanity like I was her own flesh and blood.

  “There there, young lady. Everything's gonna be alright. We won't let it be anything else when you've had two of the most powerful people in the club tell you you're gonna be okay.”

  Her joke brought a ghostly smile to my face. I sat up, leaned into her, trying to get my head straight.

  “I don't know what the hell I'm doing. I have nowhere to go.” I shook my head, already exasperated with being a nomad. “Half my friends are getting ready for college...they can't take me in. Extended family lives far away. And God! If anyone found out what Dad did...what if he sent them after me again?”

  I wasn't certain what turned my stomach more; thinking about those greasy Skulls or my own father?

  “Nobody's coming after you. I told you once and I'll tell you again: we won't let 'em. I'll keep telling you too, Rach, as many times as it takes to drill it into your pretty head.”

  There wasn't a shred of doubt in Frannie's voice. My body wanted to lay down on the bed and sleep the other twelve hours of the new day away. Good thing the saner part of me wouldn't allow that.

  “Put me to work,” I muttered.

  “What?”

  “Give me something to do around here. It's the least I can do with no way to pay rent.” I watched her make a face like I was saying something totally crazy. “I really need a distraction too.”

  The lines in Frannie's face smoothed. She smiled, understanding at last.

  “Come on. I'll let you get all cleaned up and start you something easy and mindless. Somebody will probably give me hell about having you doing Prospects' work, but I don't care.”

  Frannie didn't catch hell after all. By the end of the week, my hands ached from polishing floors and organizing cabinets. I felt like I'd just been through the gauntlet in a big kitchen and a hospital backroom.

  In a way, it was refreshing to do real labor. Dad always protected me from that, having an underpaid cleaning lady on hand at all times.

  Work burned away the pain. And burning off all that evil energy made me the most peaceful I'd been since arriving at the Devils' clubhouse.

  Moving my body smothered fires in my brain. I didn't have time to cry when I threw myself into scrubbing, sweeping, and organizing. I worked until I slept easy – or easy enough – each night.

  Didn't have time to let stupid little fantasies about my savior Jack go crazy either. But my daydreams still came in spurts, as unsettling as they were beautiful.

  He'd been away for several days on club business – something about picking up supplies from another charter in International Falls – and a big part of me was glad.

  If Jack had been here, I might've shunned work in favor of a very different, far riskier distraction.

  The Skulls and my asshole father did more than nearly steal my virginity. They made me fear losing it to the wrong man.

  After nineteen years, I'd held out for Mister Right, going on a few awkward dates with boys from school. They were too boring to make anything last, and rewarding these skinny dullards with sex was the last thing on my brain.

  I pushed sex in the background altogether. I'd built it up to be this perfect, unachievable wonder. And to think it might be thrust on me at any time, against my will...

  My capture, rescue, and arrival at the club had rebooted my brain. That filthy creep Venom had almost had his chance to wreck me for life.

  I thought about sex a lot, and that just made me work harder. When I got into the rhythm of my chores, I could push it out of mind, including that sweet, handsome man who delivered goosebumps just by standing next to me.

  Hard work saved me from myself, and from Jack. Even when I heard the guys taking the whores in that room down the hall, moaning and grunting out their pleasure, I ignored it with labor, anything to take my mind off dangerous temptations.

  I'd even made a few friends. Tank and Freak, the club's two Prospects, both gave me massive props for cleaning up the Devils' messes better than they ever could.

  At least I'm a natural at something Dad wouldn't approve of.

  Actually, all the guys treated me like a polite guest, giving me way more credit than I would've ever given to these big fearsome bikers in my old life. Surprisingly, none of them tried to hit on me either.

  Warlock was the only one around with an old lady. The rest of the guys were old or divorced or just throwing themselves at the two whores. I wondered what the hell made the Prairie Devils so different.

  These guys were rough around the edges, but they didn't make my skin crawl like being around the Raging Skulls did.

  Everything would've been awesome if it was just the Devils and Frannie I was dealing with. But then there were the whores.

  The two women slunk around like cats when they weren't in that huge room decked with pink and purple.

  The room creeped me out. It was like something a High School play would piece together to represent a Sultan's bedchamber.

  The whores watched me working from a distance when they weren't in there fucking or sleeping. They never returned my smiles.

  I was all ready to avoid those stone cold bitches on the evening Rita came up to me.

  The skinny floozy was around thirty, wearing a tank top that revealed even more than her ass length skirt. I was cleaning the frames on the old photos in the hall when she appeared.

  I stopped to look at an old picture of Voodoo, amazed at how much he resembled Jack in his younger days. The old man had been cagey to me since I arrived, but he looked downright handsome in his green fatigues, grinning at the camera with a fat joint in one hand and a rifle in the other.

  “Hey, Princess. Whatcha doin'?” The sickly sweet and sour voice caught me by surprise.

  I looked up as a set of long nails tapped hard on the glass of another dusty photo next to me. I knew it was Rita by that dark wavy hair with the purple skunk stripe down the middle. The other whore, Michelle, was bright blonde.

  Her over-painted face leered at me with a big stupid smile. She clicked her jaw, chewing that potent grape
bubble gum I always smelled wherever she'd been. It followed her like perfume.

  “What does it look like? Cleaning up this place. That's how I earn my keep around here.” I couldn't hide my irritation.

  What the hell do you really want, anyway? I thought.

  “Oh, so you think you're staying for the long haul?”

  Pop!

  Rita's big purple bubble exploded just inches from my face, flapping back into her mouth with a good tongue swipe. I wanted to punch her.

  “Why wouldn't I?” I shrugged. “I kinda like it here.”

  “It's okay, girl. No need to get defensive. You've got all the guys and the only old lady that counts taking a shine to you. I can live with that.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Don't get any bright ideas about Jack. I don't like the way he looks at you for a guy who's got a good decade on you. Don't let him get liquored up and drag you back to his bed.”

  What the hell is this? A whore handing out advice about who I should sleep with?

  I almost laughed at the irony. But Rita was really pissing me off, especially the steady chomp-chomp-chomp of those over-polished teeth.

  “Care to tell me why that's any of your fucking business, and not my own?”

  The waxy smile on her face melted. She stepped closer, shoving her big fake tits against mine. One accusatory finger shot out, its wicked nail pointed at my eye.

  “Look, Michelle and I don't need another girl around here. Neither does the club. I get the fact that you're some little stray the guys picked up and want to nurse back to health like a wounded bird. If you want to stay, then you'd better learn your place. I don't like the way you're stepping outside of your cage, little birdie.”

  “Sounds to me like you're pissed because Jack won't fuck you as much as the other guys. Guess he prefers a different kind of woman.”

  Seething, I shook my hips for added emphasis. I lit a short fuse, and I knew it.

  Rita flew forward, tackling me to the wall. She got a grip on one bicep and smashed her talon-like fingernails into me. I groaned, trying to shake her off, but she was taller and heavier.

  “Listen to me, you nasty little bitch. You're too fucking stupid to know what's good for you. Michelle twisted my arm into telling you to back the fuck off the nice way. Now, we're going to do things my way.”

  Her nails scratched deeper at my skin. I squealed.

  The panic was back, the same claustrophobic adrenaline rush I had on Venom's bike. Except this time, it wasn't staying contained. Not against another girl.

  A terrible energy welled up in my stomach and exploded. I lunged forward, throwing everything my motion, grabbing at her right boob.

  I caught her nipple and squeezed. Twisted.

  Shocked, Rita fell back and screamed, an uneven catcall that echoed down the lonesome hallway.

  Success. I'd broken her grip, and now I ran past her, but she caught my collar by the scruff of the neck and hauled me to her.

  I kicked at her shins. Slurring her curses, the bitch went down, tumbling against the wall I'd been working on and almost demolishing several photos in the process.

  Good! I hope she screws up something. Voodoo will chew her ass out for fucking up his precious memories...

  “Get the fuck away from me!” She shouted. “You're a crazy little orphan shit, aren't you? Okay, I get it. I'll leave your wildcat crazy alone just this once. But you better listen to what I said, girl, or you'll wish the Skulls had you down on a dirty mattress raping your ass.”

  It took everything I had to keep my feet planted on the ground. It wasn't just the bitch fight. It was everything that had happened the past week welling up inside me, a powder keg going up in fire.

  I doused them just in time. Rita flashed her hateful eyes at me one more time before turning smartly and walking back to her room. For the first time, the door to the whores' Purple Room slammed shut.

  Still breathing heavy, I returned to work, studying the frames for any damage. No such luck.

  Damn it. Guess I'll have to watch my back another way.

  I brushed the whore's words off and tried not to think about them. But one thing kept nagging.

  Is it really that obvious? This attraction to Jack?

  I shook my head, muttering to myself. What little I knew about my savior told me those bitches wouldn't stand a chance of ever becoming his old lady.

  Why, then, did they feel so fucking threatened?

  A stupid crush like mine shouldn't keep them from banging their heads against the wall trying to get somewhere with him besides his bed. I was the one with the silly crush.

  Not him.

  It couldn't possibly be a two way street, could it?

  I lifted the fifth heaping pack of thawed ribs onto the steel kitchen counter and sliced open the plastic. Frannie and I had a small army to feed, almost thirty hungry men between the club and its associates.

  I wiped my brow. Who knew slamming cold meat around could be so damned exhausting?

  “I'm glad your here, hon. Many hands make light work. Yours are a lot more nimble than Tank or Freak's too.” Frannie smiled at me as she applied more barbecue sauce to our little production line.

  “What's the occasion?”

  She stopped in mid-spoon. “Haven't you heard? Jack's back. Got himself a hell of a good deal with the allied club up in Canada. That means more supplies and someone else putting the sting in the Skulls in Minnesota and Michigan for awhile.”

  My heart started to pound. Jesus, it had only been a solid week, but it felt like he'd been away forever.

  “Will we get to join the festivities? Or is this for the boys only?” I asked sheepishly, checking the timer for the ribs still in the oven.

  “You kidding? Some of the older guys will have their kids here tonight. The club's a family friendly place when it wants to be. I'm sure as hell going to be there when we're done with all this cooking. So are you.”

  Her look said she wouldn't tolerate anything else. That made me grin. It had been so long since somebody really wanted me around.

  Me, Rachel Hargrove, attending a gathering for fun. Not because it was my duty as a politico's daughter.

  The rest of the cooking went smooth. The Prospects helped us haul out the finished buffet to a huge table at the end of the bar.

  I'd never smelled so much meat in my life. It was totally different from the square diet of greens and whole grains Dad always forced on me. He always said he didn't want me getting fat, but what he really meant is that he didn't want me eating anyway different from him.

  My stomach growled during a break in the silence. Freak turned around and smiled.

  “Jesus, Rach. Have a taste test. We got all the major food groups here: meatballs, ribs, wings, corn on the cob, and chips. Guess you'll have to wait a few more years for the whiskey one, though.”

  I couldn't help but smile back. Freak was almost as new as I was, a tall and heavily tattooed twenty-something year old guy. He was just a couple weeks into club life, bumped up to Prospect after being a hang around for about a year.

  Not my type, but nice enough anyway. I took him up on his suggestion and loaded some meatballs onto my small plate. Frannie did too.

  “Yep, we did the job right,” she said in between bites. “About time too. I'm half-starved.”

  Everybody began streaming in about half an hour later. It was a strange carnival of big hairy men playing darts with their kids, arm wrestling for their turn at the bar's jukebox, in between stuffing their faces with beer and meat and then snoozing on the tables.

  I fed myself and kept my distance. Watching Jack from afar kept me from falling asleep after all that work. For once, I didn't want it to lay me out too soon.

  I wanted to go over and congratulate him. But fat chance of squeezing my way through the constant ring of boisterous brothers around him.

  I think every man in that bar must've went by him at some point. Everybody except Voodoo, that is, who's absence was very
obvious.

  Didn't take a relationship counselor to know something was up between Jack and his old man. I only hoped it wouldn't weaken the club or lead to further drama. My arrival had already caused plenty.

  “What's going on, girl? Why don't you get out there and join the games?” Frannie took my hand, stopping me when I tried to walk by her. “Half the guys are drunk off their asses. You could beat 'em all right now if you wanted to. There's even a little pot of play money on the line!”

  “Thanks. Maybe some other time. I'm really feeling all that cooking in my bones.”

  She frowned, wrinkles showing in her forehead.

  “You really want to spend some time with Jack, don't you?”

  I started to sweat. Jesus, that sly smile on her face told me she knew everything.

  “I...I just wanted to thank him. Can't imagine where I'd be if he hadn't pulled me away from the other MC.” Actually, I could imagine it, and that made me want to thank him even more. “At least everyone else appreciates him around here too.”

  “You know, I've been meaning to pat him on the back myself. Let's go tell him in person. Come on.” She stood and stepped forward, leading me on by the hand.

  Frannie wasn't going to let me say no. Part of me thanked her persistence, and the other half coiled into an immature girl scared to death of coming face to face with the man she was crushing on.

  We were halfway through the crowd when Frannie came to a dead stop.

  “Wait, wait, wait. Maybe we should do this later, Rachel. He's got a lot going on right now...” The weird edge in her voice caught me by surprise.

  Huh? Why the sudden change of heart?

  I forced myself through the tight space between her and a big guy at the nearest table. Jack sat at the bar, completely surrounded by laughing bikers. He had the blonde whore on his lap, that slut they called Michelle.

  She looked up from cooing in his ear and saw me. Her tongue poked out her gaudy red lips, teasing his earlobe.

  Jack leaned back in rapture. His eyes opened, and he wore a shit-eating smile when his head rolled in my direction.