“Crane” Lost Valkyries MC #1
By Esther E. Schmidt
Copyright © 2017 by Esther E. Schmidt All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, without permission in writing from the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Incidents, names, places, characters and other stuff mentioned in this book is the results of the author’s imagination. Crane is a work of fiction. If there is any resemblance, it is entirely coincidental.
This content is for mature audiences only. Please do not read if sexual situations, violence and explicit language offends you.
Cover design by:
Esther E. Schmidt
Editor:
Virginia Tesi Carey
Photographer/ Model:
Nathan Hainline
facebook.com/nate.model
instagram.com/nate_hainline
DEDICATION
I like to dedicate this one to my friend Christi Durbin. She’s the one person who keeps me sane (while I, on the other hand, drive her insane in the process). She’s my person. The one who’s always honest, open, and straight to the point. The epitome of friendship. Love ya, babe.
Virginia Tesi Carey
Working with you makes going through edits a fun element in this whole process.
Thanks so much, you rock!
Nathan Hainline
Thanks for the intense face, perfect visual for my character!
Table of contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
EPILOGUE SIX MONTH LATER
Get a taste of “Corban” Wicked Throttle MC #0.5. Chapter one, is included in the back.
CHAPTER ONE
***Crane***
I hear the voice of a woman. I’m guessing it’s the one I was paid to deal with. It’s coming from the alley on the left of me. “Move away from me or I’ll…”
“Or what, bitch?” A man’s voice sneers. “Or you’ll make me grab your hair and fuck that mouth? Because other than a hot, warm hole, it doesn’t hold any importance to me.”
I round the corner and take in the scene in front of me, along with the idiot that just threatened her. Seems like trouble follows that lush ass of hers.
“You mind stepping away from the woman?” I tell the guy. “Because that mouth is of importance to me.”
Mainly because she needs to keep it shut, by all means necessary, but that’s not the point right now. This fucker interfering with my assignment is.
The fucker wraps his fingers around her throat and takes one step toward me, keeping her pinned to the wall. “Mind your own business.” His other hand reaches for his leg and when he lifts it back up, twirling his wrist, I see he’s got a fucking butterfly knife pointing right at me.
My eyes fall shut and I give a quick shake with my head. For fuck’s sake. I didn’t sign up for this shit. The chick is a material witness who needs to disappear. As in drop off the face of the earth by stop breathing or get lost in the woods somewhere to live a long happy life without ever showing her pretty face ever again.
And for the record, she does have a pretty face, that’s for sure. But one way or the other, I’m the judge, jury, and executioner. Not the fucker who’s got her by the neck and waving a damn butterfly knife. Pansy ass.
“Hang on there, buddy.” My middle finger strokes my beard while I move closer. Yeah, I’m flipping him off before I kill him. It’s a mental thing for me, okay?
I trace my bottom lip with my tongue, eying him carefully, like I’m thinking things through. Or the fucker might think I’m praising the idiot who’s still wielding the butterfly knife. My gaze connects with the woman’s gray orbs that strangely enough don’t carry a hint of fear.
It’s after midnight, dark as hell, but the alley is letting in the moonlight that shows me her freckled covered face perfectly. Yeah, this is the one I was looking for. I tracked her inside a bar but she slipped out the back before I could get to her.
“Wanna pump her cunt while I fuck her mouth?” The idiot traces the tip of his knife along his own jaw. “She’s got two sides, I’m not that greedy. We could share.”
Okay, I’ve heard enough of this moron. In one smooth move I’ve caught the guy’s wrist and push up, impaling his head on his own butterfly knife. Damn, talk about making it easy for me. How stupid can a person be?
I don’t have to answer my own damn question when I lock eyes with the woman who’s staring at me with wide eyes. Shit. Front row seat for capital murder. A-fucking-gain. But this time it’s me she’s witnessed kill a guy.
“Being a material witness seems to be your specialty, huh? What are you, a magnet for trouble?” I mutter while my fingers wrap around her throat.
“Must be,” she croaks. “Seems I’ve traded one dickface’s fingers around my throat for another’s.”
I can’t help the chuckle that slips past my lips. Damn, she’s cute. My fingers tighten, making her gasp in return.
“Careful there, Pickles. I’m nothing like anyone you’ve ever met. Not even Tico Borgio. Best remember that, Faya Kinley.” She gasps again when she hears her name. Or maybe it’s the name of the mob boss she witnessed kill a woman.
Leaning close, I make sure I tighten my grip just a little more, making it harder for her to breathe. “That’s right, I’m not just someone passing through…I came for you, Pickles.”
I don’t know if my grip was too damn tight, or it’s the realization that she was found, or what went on before I grabbed her, hell…might be all of the above. But she slumps in my grip and I just barely catch her. Well, that makes things rather easy.
I throw her over my shoulder and head for my bike. It takes a few ropes and a few minutes, but then I’m on the road with the woman strapped to my back and her legs wrapped around me. Yeah, you can ask how the hell does he do that? But it’s not my first rodeo. See? Nice choice of words, huh? Let’s just say I’m good with a rope, among other things.
I pick up speed and guide my bike toward the exit, it’s about fifteen minutes to my cabin. I built it myself about four years ago and it’s conveniently located in the middle of nowhere. Exactly for moments like this. For when I need a place to lay low for a while. I haven’t made up my mind yet about the woman. The job was to prevent her from testifying. I’ve already been paid because my ass isn’t moving before the cash is in place.
That’s right, I have a spotless reputation. A hitman who gets the job done. Any job, any time. Once I’ve given my word, and the cash is exchanged, it’s a done deal. No matter the consequences or obstacles, I will get it done. Something that the woman strapped to my back will find out firsthand.
CHAPTER TWO
***Faya***
I swallow against the tightness of my throat. Moving my head, I can feel the wind slapping my face. Where the hell am I? What’s happening? There’s rumbling beneath me, the heat of something that’s plastered against the front of my body. Wait. My eyes fly open. What the? I’m strapped against someone’s back. No, not someone, it’s the guy with the beard from the alley. My whole body freezes.
“Don’t do anything crazy, Pickles,” the man shouts over the roaring bike. “Not that there’s much you can do, but you catch my drift, yeah? We’ll be at my cabin in a few minutes. Then I’ll cut you…loose.” His chuckle rumbles straight through his muscled body.
Asshole. I’m dead either way. I saw this guy kill someone right in front of me. Not to mention the fact that this guy came for me, he said so himself.
Why the hell not make jokes, poke the bear
, or what the ever-loving. “You’re a dick. Pick up speed and get it over with, instead of blabbering bullshit to stroke your own ego.” I make sure my lips touch his earlobe.
Okay, I admit…I sound like I have a death wish, but in reality…I don’t have a chance either way. So what if I let my tongue trail a path right after I told him off? He fucks with my head, I return the favor with the only language dicks understand. Sex, lust, release. And I’m hoping on my release…as in escape from everyone in this fucked up world. Maybe he’ll crash the bike and kill us both in the process…one can hope, right?
Sadly, he keeps the bike steady and doesn’t respond at all. I squint and try to take in the surroundings as it flashes by. It’s only sand, rocks, and darkness all around. I have no clue where I am or how long I’ve been out. We make a sharp turn to the right and slide through some kind of crack in a rock, or so it seems. Like we are driving straight through a cave.
It’s damn cold and I feel like a popsicle. The only heat I’m getting is from this muscled guy in front of me. I’m wearing black yoga pants, a dark gray sweatshirt that’s two sizes too big, and my pink comfy moccasins. Don’t judge. I was dressed that way when my roommate asked me for a ride.
She needed to swing by a guy she met a week earlier. No, that’s not completely the way to put it. She had a client, a job. She works as a high class call girl on the side. Or worked, seeing that fucker killed her. Right before my eyes I might add. Although at the time, he didn’t realize I was there. He thought she’d come alone. So when he shot her through the head, it took me four deep breaths before I hit the gas and hightailed out of there.
I went straight to the police station. Went through the roll of things and three days later, I’m still wearing the same clothes and on the run. Why? Because when they guided me out of the room where I gave my statement, I bumped right into Tico Borgio. Nice, right? Classic fuck-up. He gave me a smile that promised me my head would roll. Or maybe it was his thumb scratching an itch along his neck that pointed it out for me.
I never wanted this, any of this. I’ve been in the system ever since my parents died in a car accident when I was eight. I wasn’t one of the lucky ones. I had a shitty childhood where I learned to only trust myself. Why can’t I just live my life enjoying the little things? I don’t need a lot. Shit, what am I talking about, I never had a lot, so what do I know?
My piece of shit car that’s probably still parked at the end of the alley this asshole grabbed me from earlier…the tiny apartment I managed to pay for with busing tables, my wardrobe, the secondhand couch in the living room, hell…all of it isn’t much, but it was mine. I worked hard from the time I was sixteen up to the twenty-three year old I am now. Shit, with my fucked-up life I thought I’d seen everything.
Hell, even the shit with my roommate, Brianna, makes me realize everything can be gone in a blink of an eye. I didn’t really know her at all except for the fact that we worked at the same bar. About a year ago, Brianna was looking for a place to crash and I said she could stay with me. She paid rent and left me alone, we had a good thing going…well, until she got killed in front of me, and here I am, strapped to a biker’s back.
Not for long though, because he just stopped in front of a…brick and concrete thing? “Is that supposed to be a cabin?” I mutter.
I feel him rumble a growl and it makes me smile on the inside.
“Shut your pothole. I built the thing myself. There’s a tight crawl space underneath, wanna see? Or are you gonna play nice so you can sit on a fucking chair?” He barks out his words.
“As if I have a choice in whatever is left of my life,” I mumble.
A glimpse of steel flashes before my eyes as I feel something cold pressing into the skin of my neck.
“I said shut your pothole, cunt. I will end you here. You are dead on about not having a choice. You belong to me now.”
I feel his muscles tighten right before the knife swings. My eyes close and I brace for the pain. Except it doesn’t come. It always comes. Wait for it my mind tells me, making me brace some more. I hate waiting for it, when that happens it’s always so much worse.
“Open your goddamned eyes.” His voice is a growl.
I peek through one of my lashes. How did he manage to cut me lose? I’m still sitting on the bike and he’s standing beside it, arms crossed in front of his chest, angry as hell.
“Why the hell are you angry at me?” I can’t help but glare at him.
His fingers wrap around my jaw. “Who the hell hurt you in your past that makes you shut down like that?”
I rip my jaw away from his hand, my head drops and I swallow. “I don’t want to talk about it. Just get it over with, okay?”
He mutters some curses and before I know what’s happening, I’m being thrown over his shoulder while he’s stalking toward the cabin. That’s kind of impressive because my ass is huge and heavy.
My wrists are still tied and clearly, I’m no match to fight this guy. He’s an all muscled, tall, bearded, with dark hair hanging in long strings around his face, rough biker kind of man. With one hell of a nice ass. Well, from the angle I’m looking at it anyway. Shit. Where did my mind go? Oh, well...time is up, so I might as well enjoy the view, right?
I’m robbed from doing so when he steps inside and lets me slide down the front of his body. Evil asshole. The smirk on his face is telling me he did that on purpose. I’m not wearing a bra because I was going for comfort...three days ago. Ugh, that little fact makes me uncomfortable because...
“Can I shower before you kill me?” Did I really just ask that? Jeeeeezzz, Faya. Talk about getting your priorities straight. Personal hygiene before death. Uh, huh. Sounds logical, right?
“Your freckles light up when you blush. Fucking adorable,” he mutters while he spins me around and guides me toward a large window.
No, not a window, sliding doors that lead to a deck. And a...wow. “Is that a hot tub?”
“Yeah, I turned on the heat before I left. Should be perfect temperature.” He spins me around again as if I weigh nothing. His voice hardens when he adds, “Strip and get in.”
Asshole. If he thinks I’ll get embarrassed by getting naked in front of him, he’s got another thing coming. I hold out my hands. “Untie me and I will.”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “Can’t break something that’s already broken, huh?” His voice is gentle as he palms his knife and cuts the rope from my wrists.
“You have no idea,” I mumble back and glare at him.
He gives me a tight nod. “Fair enough.” Again with that twitchy corner of his mouth. He lifts his chin. “Now strip and get in.”
CHAPTER THREE
***Crane***
I’ve felt her tits pressing against my back and sliding down my body, now I’m about to see them. I lick my bottom lip as she grabs the hem of her sweatshirt and pulls it over her head.
Just as I imagined, perfect set of tits. More than a damn handful and my hands are fucking big. This woman has a body that’s made for my kind of fucking. Grab those hips that are lush, dig my nails in while I bounce her tight cunt up and down my cock. Full breasts dancing in my face. Dream. Cum. Through. And it is a dream because I’ve never had a woman who could handle all of me.
She doesn’t even falter when she slides down her yoga pants and stands before me naked. No shame, no damn emotion on her face whatsoever. As if her whole life she’s been a rock in the sand. Bounced around so many times that the rough edges have been numbed. Fuck. I might be twisted inside, but that shit even pulls at my heartstrings.
I snatch up her clothes and leave her in the tub to soak. She’s naked, wet, and there’s nowhere to go anyway. Throwing her stuff in the washing machine, I set the program and head toward the tiny kitchen.
I’m a nomad, so most of the time I ride from one town to the other. I’ve got five cabins like this scattered across the country. It’s where I pull back to grab some alone time. I never do well when I’m around people for more
than one day. I mean, I can grab a Club party a few times a week, fuck whores, and drink with my brothers, but I leave every single night. I ride alone and yet I know I have my brothers, the Lost Valkyries MC, who all have my back.
I switch off the crockpot that’s filled with chili and grab two plates. I place the food filled plates on the table and throw two spoons on there as well. Opening a closet in the hallway, I grab one of the towels and walk out back.
Her arms are out of the water, all spread out, as if she’s hugging the hot tub. Her head has fallen back, eyes closed. The rest of her body is just drifting near the surface. Cunt all exposed for my eyes only. Fuck. There’s a tiny strip of curls on her mound. Black, nicely trimmed. Enough for me to grab and pull to get her to open her eyes when they’ve closed from the pleasure my cock will give when I’ve buried myself inside her.
“Give me the towel.” Her voice breaks my damn staring.
I clear my throat and throw the towel on the floor next to the tub. A dick move but the surface is pretty clean and I have to get out of here and pull myself together. She’s a damn job. Why didn’t I end her in that alley? That would have been quick and easy. I shake my head against my own stupidity. I can’t believe...
“Thank you.” A puff of air that flows through the room enters my ears and shoots straight to my dick.
My gaze hits her and she’s standing across from me, the towel wrapped around her.
I can barely manage a nod while I growl out two words. “Sit down.”
I shove a plate her way when she grabs a chair.
Stalking my way toward the fridge, I grab a beer and hold it up. “Want one of these, or water?”
“One of those, please.” She gives me a tight smile.
I open both bottles and hand one to her before I sit and start to empty my plate. I’m filled with utter surprise when I look up and see she’s already finished her plate and is sitting back, nursing her beer. There’s a look of utter contentment all over her face.
Crane Page 1
