Night Shift (Nightriders Motorcycle Club Book 1)

by Silver James

  EASY

  AWARENESS TEASED MY BARE SKIN. My whiskey-soaked brain attempted to process that whispered feeling, to make sense of what was happening. My nostrils flared at the scent tiptoeing in on the breeze. I’d left the window of the office open and, as my dick swelled and my balls ached, I wished I’d closed the damn thing. That scent teased and tantalized, like phantom pains when a guy lost a limb. Honeysuckle and gunpowder—sweet and deadly. Sam.

  She was back.

  She had to be. I’d caught elusive hints of her scent for a couple of weeks now but nothing as strong as this. I heard voices out in the compound. Digger. Hardy. Fuckin’ A. Sam was with them.

  I tore down the stairs. Knocking one of the whores on her ass. Taking down a brother with my shoulder, I careened through the clubroom and dashed into the kitchen. None of the old ladies were there. That was bad. Their mates didn’t allow them on property when there was punishment to be dealt. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Sam. She’s all I could think about.

  I smashed through the door and stumbled into the interior yard. Russki faced Digger and Hardy. Someone—Sam—slumped between the two of them, cut ropes dangling from her wrists. I slid to a stop and Digger shoved Sam to her knees in front of me. Her scent scorched my nose. Honeysuckle, gunpowder, and ammonia so thick I couldn’t breathe.

  “She’s been back at least two weeks, spying on Repo’s house.” Digger gritted the words out through his clenched jaw.

  Two weeks. She’d been around for two weeks. Or longer. Those phantom scents weren’t figments of my brain. She’d been here the whole fucking time. Hiding from me.

  “Was she trying to snatch the kids?” Was that my voice? Fuck. I should have icicles hanging from my tongue and the scraggly beard I’d grown. With no Sam to kiss and face fuck, no need to shave.

  Russki twisted his fingers in her hair and jerked her head back, baring her throat. He tugged the gag below her chin. My fingers flexed involuntarily as I reined in my wolf. He wanted to rip her to shreds, to gut her and bury his muzzle. Right after he fucked her. My dick was so hard the tip of it thrust out of the top of my jeans, wet and glistening with pre-cum.

  “No,” the word a whispered denial from between her lying lips. Except I didn’t smell rotten apples. Ammonia, bitter and acrid, still laced the air, but beneath it I caught a hint of wet ashes, of dead roses and almonds. Regret.

  Sam didn’t fight when Russki jerked off the blindfold. He’d hauled her around so that her back was to me, but I knew she’d recognized my voice. All she could see, though, was the Russian at his most fierce, flanked by Hardass and Gravedigger. There was no pity in their expressions.

  “If you did not come back to take the children, why are you here, Samantha Prescott?”

  Her shoulders slumped even as Russki kept her facing upward by the pressure of his hand in her hair.

  She didn’t speak, not for a long time. My nostrils flared. Her fear was abating, to be replaced by…? I sniffed, tilting my head as I shifted through the various odors. There. Just a whiff. Damp, moldy earth. An abandoned house, musty and dank. My mother stank of that scent right before she swallowed a bottle of pills and left me alone when I was fourteen. Resignation. Sam had given up.

  I looked up to find Russki and the other two Wolves watching me. The Russian’s eyes were hooded. He deliberately yanked her up off the ground and shook her. Her arms and legs flailed like a limp sock monkey. “Answer me, shlyukha. You are my slut now, da?”

  “I tried to leave. I meant to go back to Utah. At least until everything blew over.” Sam’s voice sounded subdued, with no inflection. “But I couldn’t.”

  “You couldn’t? Or wouldn’t?” Hardy snarled at her.

  “Couldn’t. The kids. I knew they were safe, but I couldn’t run out on them.”

  “Ah. The deti. Yes. So the children are the only reason.” Russki dropped her, and she curled up in a ball.

  “No.”

  “I did not hear you. What did you say to me?”

  God, I’m so sorry, Easy.

  I stared down at her. Sam’s lips hadn’t moved. I was so fucking stunned, I just stood there.

  “No,” she said a little louder. “They aren’t the only reason. I got as far as Lawrence. Had to turn around, come back.” Tears clogged her voice.

  Before I could react, Hardy and Digger had her spread out on the ground, and Russki was unzipping his fucking jeans. What the hell?

  “Then you must have missed me, samka.”

  Her eyes finally flicked up to mine as her tears spilled over. “No. Easy. I couldn’t leave Easy.”

  “Do you wish him to fuck you, samka?”

  Samka. Mate. Not his. Mine. My wolf tore through the leash I held on him and howled. The fucking Russian laughed, then threw back his head and howled with me.

  “Fuck her, Easy. Fuck her here and now to claim her. But know if she crosses the Nightriders again, I will order you to slit her throat.”

  Still laughing, he led Digger and Hardy back through the kitchen door. I stood there, hands shoved in my pockets because they’d partially shifted into claws. My wolf wanted her, but he was wary too.

  “Can you ever forgive me?”

  I didn’t know if I could or not. “You shredded me, Sam.”

  “I…I know. I’m so sorry.” Her voice broke, but she sat up and curled her knees to her chest. She dropped her cheek to one knee, her face turned away.

  Squatting, I touched her leg. “Look at me.”

  She flipped cheeks so I could see her face, but she wouldn’t meet my eyes.

  “Why, Sam?”

  “You scared me.”

  “How the fuck did I scare you? I’ve never hit you. Never touched you in anger. But I’m tellin’ you, babe. I’m about this close to losing my shit. I want to hurt you, but there’s no way my beating you would ever compare to what you did to my heart. Everything, Sam. I gave you fucking everything I am and you pissed it away. Pissed me away. And the hell of it is? I can’t hurt you. I’d chew off my own gawddamned hand before I did.”

  “Oh, God, Easy.” And then she couldn’t talk anymore. She was crying too hard.

  I did the only thing I could. I pulled her into my arms and held her. Held her until the storm of tears stopped. Held her until the moon climbed high in the sky. Held her until she raised her face to mine, her lips finding my clenched jaw and kissing it until I relaxed. I stretched her out on the ground and lay beside her.

  “Do you know what you’re doing?” Sam sounded out of breath.

  The stars glistened in her eyes as she stared up at me. I brushed my fingers across her lips. “I do now.” Lowering my head I touched my lips to hers. Her mouth softened for me, and I sank into her. The taste of her mouth, her skin, and the texture of both, aroused, soothed, seduced. The shape of her—the athletic legs, the curvy torso, the firm breasts that just fit the palms of my hands—made me want to howl.

  She tugged at our shirts—the one I wore and the one she’d stolen from me in Utah that covered her now. I helped by simply ripping the one she wore down the middle then jerking mine over my head. Flesh met flesh. She arched against me, a throaty moan teasing my senses. I burrowed deeper against her.

  The night air chilled our skin, but blood heated inside me, and I could feel her skin burning with a fever. She breathed as our mouths met again, a soft sigh against my lips and our tongues danced in a long wet kiss that slipped from gentle to urgent.

  Her breath hitched, and she moaned as I moved restlessly down her body, my mouth leaving trails of kisses against her hot flesh.

  More. All. Everything, I thought. Then I stopped thinking.

  Her cheek, her shoulders, the soft curves of them. I fed on them, then like a starving wolf, I fell on her tits, tasting, sucking, nipping until it seemed I fed on her heart as well. Shuddering, she curled closer to me, offering everything as her hands streaked over my back, taking, demanding more from me.

  I did that to her, I could make her want more than she’d known
there was to have. It would always be like this between us. My hands stroked her, my mouth followed. She dug her nails into the flesh of my back, trying to ride the storm of pleasure we generated.

  I got free of her hands, moved lower between her legs. Fuck. Her scent exploded fireworks in my head. Her need swamped me, and I had to taste her pussy. I licked her, sucked her clit. I lapped her juices, and I wanted to shift and roll in her scent. I tongued her then used my hand. She was so wet, so hot and tight that I almost came when she squeezed around my fingers. Mine. She was fucking mine.

  SAM

  OH. MY. GOD. I couldn’t breathe. I tried to touch Easy, but my fingers slipped off his sweat-coated skin, and his hair was too short. I grabbed handfuls of the dirt beneath me. My body bucked, out of control, as his mouth sucked my clit and his fingers plunged in and out of my vagina. I hadn’t been a virgin since I was sixteen, but holy hell, Easy made me crazy. That had to be it. I was insane. Or drugged. We were in the middle of the freaking Nightrider compound, and the stars were whirling above me like some crazy LSD dream. Dizzy, I closed my eyes, but it didn’t matter. I still saw the stars swirling against my lids, and then meteors exploded inside me. I went limp, liquid, unable to move even though my hips still arched instinctively against him in a slow, sinuous rhythm.

  He moved up my body, slow, kissing his way. His urgency—mine—mellowed toward tenderness. A caress, a whisper of words I couldn’t quite understand, a gentle shift as he settled between my thighs, center to center.

  I stroked his shoulders then ran my palms over his head, feeling the bristles of his short hair before tunneling through the longer strands on top. A part of me wished the sides of his hair were longer so I could tangle my fingers in it. I found the curve of his throat with my lips, nuzzled the pulse beating out of control. For me. I gasped when he slipped inside me, his cock stretching me almost to the point it burned. I wanted to cry because this felt so right. So perfect. I opened my eyes to find him watching me.

  No one, I thought as the breath trembled in my chest, no one had ever looked at me as he did. In a way that told me I was his everything.

  I rose to him, withdrew, felt him surge in to recapture me. This dance between male and female was as old as time, and as patient and pure. His rhythm stayed slow, sliding in and out as our lips met again.

  I felt him say my name. “Samantha.” The word hung in the air like it had been etched with a sparkler.

  I wrapped my arms around him, held him close, and we found our release together, a gentle slide over the top that was full of tenderness. It felt like I was coming home. No. It didn’t feel like I was coming home. I was home.

  Chapter 17

  EASY

  SAM WAS IN DEEP SHIT with the Nightriders, not that I gave a good gawddamn. She was my mate, and they expected me to deal with her. The problem was the other old ladies—specifically the ones mated to Wolves. Since Sam had made friends with Sunny and Ginger to begin with, I figured those two would teach her the ropes. Yeah, that wasn’t happening. Who knew Sunny would carry a grudge?

  My apartment off property was about the same size as my room in the Barracks, but wasn’t as clean. Necessity dictated I find a place big enough for Sam and me, plus the kids. The house needed to be close to the compound and hopefully near some of the other Nightriders with old ladies. Sam wasn’t allowed in the compound unless I was with her. She figured out quick she’d better wear my patch at all times while there. She left it in my room one time, and I almost killed the motherfucker who laid hands on her. After that, she got the message loud and clear.

  I’d moved her Jeep from the spot where she’d hidden it, surprised as hell it hadn’t been stolen or stripped. Then I saw the graffiti on the wall. One of the brothers had marked the derelict building as Nightrider territory. There wasn’t a dickwad in three counties stupid enough to steal something from there now. I parked the Jeep at my apartment, and made her ride on my Harley whenever we went out. It pissed her off, but I got turned on by having her right behind me. Once the weather got warm enough, I was gonna fuck Sam on my bike, driving down the road full throttle. My dick jumped to attention every time I pictured it.

  The Blood Moon was just over two weeks away. None of us were stupid enough—or strong enough—to challenge Russki. He was uptight though, halfway expecting one of the local presidents to challenge for national leadership. We’d be burying the body if one did. No one could take the Russian.

  Hollywood, that asshole, decided we needed to party before all the shit went down. He cleared it with the officers and proceeded to invite all the area chapters and every girl on his call list.

  “Gotta have lots of pussy on hand, right?”

  Digger, Hardy, Wizard, and all the unattached brothers agreed. Me? I had all the pussy I ever wanted. All I had to do was look at Sam, and she’d get wet. But first things first. A place to live then the party. All the old ladies were in charge of food. Except the meat. Repo, Radar, and Digger were the master grillers. We had a big ass grill out back. They’d smoked ribs, roasts, even a fucking half steer one time. Radar swore he was gonna do a pig like at a luau or something.

  The women shut Sam out of things. Her feelings were hurt, but it’s not like she wasn’t at fault and deserved some of it. Calling Repo a monster to his mate’s face? That was pretty damn stupid. I was getting regular pussy, and my wolf was doing his one-for-the-team thing so we’d forgiven her for ripping my heart out and stomping on it. The old ladies had a soft spot in their hearts for me, and they weren’t as quick to forgive.

  A week before the party, I lucked out and found a place. I put in an offer, made the down-payment, and closed on it without talking to Sam. I figured if she could squat in an abandoned building with nothing but a sleeping bag, she could live in this house. It had five bedrooms, a big garage, and the Realtor kept bragging about the kitchen and bathroom remodels. Besides, we could take possession immediately. Good thing Sam liked it.

  I sent her off to shop for furniture with instructions not to buy anything that couldn’t be delivered immediately. I called in reinforcements, and by the time she got back, all my stuff from the apartment had been moved in. I have a crazy-ass big custom bed. It took six of us to wrangle that bitch into the downstairs master bedroom.

  By the day of the party, we’d settled in with the kids. They were excited about going. I’d already explained to Sam that for the first part of the night, there’d be a lot of kids around because it was family time. There might not be many Wolf pups around, but some of the human brothers bred like rabbits. Sam sulked because staying home with the kids was her excuse to duck out of the party.

  “Babe, ya gotta get over this shit.”

  “Me? I’ve done everything I can to make up with them. They ignore me, or cut me off and walk away. You have no idea what it’s like!”

  She had me there. I didn’t understand women and the fucking games they played with each other. If you pissed off another Nightrider, punches were thrown then you sat down with the asshole and shared a cold beer. There was none of this holding onto grudges and hurt feelings and crap.

  “You’re right.”

  Sam stared at me, her mouth hanging open about half an inch. I leaned over and kissed her. “Either they get over it or they don’t, baby.” I tugged her against my chest. “They may never be your friends, but they respect the patch. Just help out even if they ignore you. Once things wind down with the kids, you can leave.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’m an officer, Sam. I gotta stay.”

  “Oh.”

  Damn. I fucking hated when she sounded all small and wounded like that. I kissed the top of her head and squeezed her tighter. “It’ll be okay. We’re expecting close to three hundred people. You’ll find someone there to hang out with.”

  SAM

  TONIGHT WOULD BE an unmitigated disaster. I could almost see the black cloud hanging over my head. I’d spent days in the kitchen—which was freaking fantastic for cooking i
n. How Easy got so lucky with this house, I’ll never know. I couldn’t have picked out a better place. I hadn’t cooked in ages, but with this kitchen, I intended to make up for lost time. I baked pies—deep dish apple, cherry, key lime, chocolate meringue, coconut cream. I made cakes—chocolate, red velvet, angel food. I made cookies—double chunk chocolate with pecans, sugar, snickerdoodles, oatmeal raisin, peanut butter.

  Friggin’ Easy and Jonah thought they’d died and gone to heaven. Noni just wanted her Nilla Wafers. I was determined to find a recipe for those suckers. I mean, it wasn’t like I had anything else to do. I didn’t want to get a job until the kids were settled, and it’s not like the other old ladies—and I still hated that term, but refused to rock the boat any more than I had already—were knocking on the door to spend time with me.

  Easy got a call from Radar, who ran the bail bond company, and took off with a half-ass promise that he’d see me later at the clubhouse. Whoopee. I loaded up all the desserts and the kids in the Jeep and headed over in the middle of the afternoon. Maybe I could sneak in, drop off this stuff, and high-tail it out of there. I was damn tired of the catty bitches. I’d done everything I could think of to apologize. None of them would give me the time of day and frankly, treated me like one of the club whores, despite what Easy believed.

  When I drove up to the gate, I figured to get hassled since Easy wasn’t with us. Instead, Hollywood stuck his head in the window and took a big ol’ sniff.

  “Mmmm. You smell like my momma’s house the day before Christmas. Gimme a cookie and I’ll help you unload.”

  “Deal.”

  Maybe things were getting better. Or maybe I just had good bribes. If all it took was a bakery load of desserts to win these guys over, then I’d bake every freaking day of the week. Hollywood jumped up on the hood of the Jeep to ride around back. I pulled up not far from the door, thinking to off load and then move the Jeep.