by Celia Loren
“Friends of Blair,” he shouts.
“Friends of Blair,” Bane returns.
The man points at the motorcycle. “She coming aboard?”
“Sure is!” Bane shouts.
The man’s eyes flicker, but he only shrugs. “Kill the engine and walk it on.” He points to a narrow plank balanced between the pier and the boat, and I guess that’s going to be our gangway.
“He’s kidding,” I grunt.
“Alright.” Bane says, twisting the key to shut down the ignition. “Get off.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” I repeat.
Bane steps beside me, and gently lifts Jenny from her perch and hands her to me to hold. “Wait here, I’ll come back to help you both.”
“Oh god,” I grunt under her weight. “You’re kidding.”
He’s not. The Harley’s tires are almost as wide as the plank, and I find it hard to breathe as I watch Bane teeter and sweat slowly up the ramp. The longhaired boatman is watching too, grinning with interest and mouthing instructions and advice. Bane’s about eight feet above the black water, and god knows how deep it is or what’s under the surface.
Heights. Why is it always heights?
“Be careful!” I shout.
I realize the buzzing sound I am hearing isn’t in my brain; it’s real. I turn around, curious, to see what’s making the noise. And then I almost pass the fuck out.
Another Harley is zipping down the road toward the dock.
“Bane,” I moan, my chest tightening, “Looks like we have company.”
He glances up the pier and curses. “Shit.”
The longhaired boatman’s body goes rigid. “There’s a third passenger?”
“No,” Bane grunts.
I squint into the distance. “Who knows we’re here? Blair?”
Bane shakes his head. “That’s not Blair. Whoever it is, they’re sure as hell not invited. Better get yourself ready to speed us out of here in a hurry, man.”
The boatman nods. “Ok. I’ll be at the wheel. Climb aboard.”
The boatman disappears below deck, leaving Bane to finish his precarious balancing act and me to panic on the dock. The newcomer is getting closer. As the rider turns onto the start of the dock, I recognize the build and the silver hair peeking from below the helmet: Jack Keller.
“Bane,” I squeal, “It’s Jack. Hurry!”
“Motherfucker,” Bane growls. “How the hell did he find us? Ava, hang on.”
It’s awful: Bane’s stuck on the plank with his motorcycle, and if he rushes he risks falling into the Hudson. He tries to speed up his steps but his process along the plank is too slow. It’s clear that Jack will converge on us before Bane makes it to the boat.
Mind whirling, I suddenly remember the Remington on my back.
“Sorry Jenny,” I whisper, easing her down to the ground. She rests right where I lay her at my feet, licking her chops and gazing trustingly up at me as if to assure me that she knows I have the situation under control. “Don’t be so sure,” I mutter to her. I swing the backpack down, freeing the long barrel of the shotgun from the straps, and check the chamber.
It’s empty. No bullets.
“Shit,” I whisper.
Digging into the front and side pockets of the backpack, I come up empty. The roar of the Harley is almost on top of me when I finally find a box of bullets in the main pocket and shakily depress the button to unlock the shelf for ammo. I’ve seen Bane do it before, but it still hurts my fingers and my pride as I fail the first two tries to fit in a shell. The third time, two slide in, and just as I am about to load another a terrible sound stops me in my tracks.
“Well, well, well, Red,” Jack’s voice ripples over the waterfront. “Going on a cruise, are you? You forgot to say goodbye. Nobody move!”
I freeze, pins and needles chilling over my flesh. Jack’s pulled up his Harley just a few yards away, and though I can’t see his steel gray eyes in the dark I can see the city lights reflecting off the barrel of his pistol, aimed at Bane.
“Glad to see you liked the property I gave you Bane,” Jack says, nodding at me. “But I didn’t mean you could take her and run.”
Unarmed, Bane has no choice but to halt, standing on the plank over the water, his hands locked on the handlebars of his bike. He glances at me, and I see the tension in his face. Fuck. We’re definitely caught with our pants down. For a few tense seconds, there is no sound but the hum of the boat engines and the pounding of my heartbeat.
Jack dismounts his bike and begins a cautious walk toward us, his mean clenched teeth coming into view. That’s how close he is.
“You forgot—the only way to leave the Club is in a body bag, Beast.” I hear the sound of Jack cocking his gun and momentarily hold my breath. “If you really want out that bad, I’m happy to help you.”
“That why you followed me alone, Keller? Didn’t bring any of your posse I see.” Jack spits over his shoulder, his lip curling. “So you could murder me without answering the club? You must be pissing your sadistic self with excitement.”
“Forget the club,” Jack barks. “This is between you and me, Bane. You’ve stood in my way, been a thorn in my goddamn side. And now you’ve made it easy for me, turned your back on the club. Far as I’m concerned that makes you free game.”
“Wrong,” Bane growls. “You are always on the wrong side of wrong, Keller. Someday you’ll burn in hell for it.”
Jack pauses, spreading his legs and taking aim at Bane. “Not today.”
“No!” I scream, jerking the Remington up into my hands and shooting. It’s a reflex; I don’t even know how it happens, how I aim or fire. I’ve certainly never done it before, and couldn’t tell anyone the steps involved. It happens purely out of need. But it happens, the boom splitting the morning air as the recoil forces me a step back.
“Jesus,” I murmur, dazed. With thundering heart and unfocused eyes, I blink towards the end of the barrel, tracing the trajectory of the bullet.
And see Jack on the ground, groaning. He’s clutching his thigh, moaning in real pain.
“Jesus,” Bane breathes. He jolts himself out his shock and quicksteps himself back to task, walking the bike forward on the platform toward the boat.
Jack sits himself up. “You fucking bitch!” He hisses. One hand clutching the meat of his quadriceps, Jack gropes the other for his dropped gun. “I’ll get you for that.”
Oh god. I’m losing my nerve. Trembling, I re-aim at Jack, but hesitate. If I shoot again, I might kill him. I don’t want to kill him…there’s been too much killing. Kill or be killed, Bane said, and I know he’s right, I know it’s Jack or me, but I just don’t know if I can do it again. My hands are trembling so much that I drop the weapon just as Jack’s fingers close around his gun.
“No!” Bane shouts.
Shoving his Harley sideways off the narrow ramp, he half sprints, half-dives off the plank and into me, knocking me to the ground and out of the line of fire. As he collides with me he pulls our bodies to the ground in a roll, simultaneously recovering the Remington. When our momentum comes to a stop, Bane is on his belly and the gun is tucked readily against his shoulder. He aims and fires, shooting Jack in the arm, causing the gun to fly out of Jack’s hand. Jack screams and falls back, writhing in pain but not dead.
“Come on, Red, run!” I grab the backpack as Bane pulls me to my feet, pushing me ahead of him onto the ramp while he pauses to scoop up Jenny. He follows me, the wood wobbling beneath our feet as we sprint into the boat.
Once on board, Bane pushes the ramp off the boat until it clatters off the side of the dock and splashes down. It tumbles into the water, bubbling slowly under the black surface just like Bane’s Harley. The handlebars are just disappearing under the brackish foam.
“Bane, your bike!” I realize.
“Too late,” he mutters, screwing his head around to glare at the front of the boat. “Drive! Drive!”
“You got it!” shouts the boatman.
“Holy shit,” I pant. “That was close. Your bike, Bane, I am so sorry. You lost your Pearl.”
Bane slumps against the hull, sighing. Jenny licks his face and he laughs. “Yeah, shit happens,” he chuckles. “I can always get a new bike.” He reaches to scratch Jenny’s ears, his eyes piercing into mine. “But where would I find another Rachel Kent?”
Heart hammering, I let myself sink down to sit beside him, fitting my side under his arm. My heart swells, the crazy emotions and adrenaline of the last few days breaking over me in an overwhelming sure. Bane strokes my cheek.
“What do you say we change things up when we get to Canada? Get us back on the right side of the law?”
My smile is probably glowing in the dark. “Yes.”
“That’s my brave girl.” His lips close over mine, full of promise, as the black Atlantic waters cover our tracks away from Manhattan Island.
Epilogue
The otherworldly blue of the Atlantic Ocean off the coast of Nova Scotia is hard to look at directly, too bright, and mind-numbingly teal. The buff sandbar of the quiet beach stretches for what looks like miles below our perch in the hotel nestled on the emerald green cliffs, giving us a birds-eye view of Prospect Bay. Purple and pink heather and yellow-blooming shrubs litter the sloping hills and gulls are singing above, the sound and smell of the sea washing in through our open balcony door. I can see it all without leaving my bed.
Jenny is curled up in a content napping ball on the balcony, her pink canine nose buried in her legs in almost the same shape as I am in before I push myself up to sit and stare out the open glass doors.
It’s a breathtakingly beautiful, serene view. But more than the beauty, what stands out to me is that everything looks clean. After being a prisoner of Death Layer Motorcycle Club and a fugitive traveling for seemed like days at sea, everything in Nova Scotia looks clean, brand-new, as if the sea has polished it until it’s a newly invented color.
Between the pristine views and the lack of pain and suffering, I half-think I must be hallucinating. This can’t be real. Sighing, I wrap my arms around my knees, hugging them into myself, and lean my cheek on my knee. My own skin is warm against itself and smells like the hotel soap. This is definitely real. Wow. I could stare and stare at this view.
I feel Bane’s hand on the small of my back and feel a reactionary burst of pleasure bloom between my legs. All it takes is one touch, one look, and I’m wet and hot for him. I twist around, freeing the sheets until I can lay my bare breasts against his back. Inhaling the thick, manly scent of him, my body hums with excitement.
“Good morning, Mr. Davies,” I murmur, nibbling his ear.
“Good morning, Ms. Kent,” he rumbles back sleepily.
“What do you want to do today?” I whisper. I flick my tongue into his ear, causing a sharp intake of breath.
“Mmmm,” he murmurs, “Let’s start with this.”
His arm snares me, pulling me under his body as his mouth claims mine, his tongue dipping under mine heavily. He tastes like steel and pine, clean and rugged and wild—like a man.
“Oh, Bane…”
His hands move instinctively to cover my breasts and squeeze, the roughness and size of his hands thrilling. I can feel the amazing hardness of his cock, morning wood as he calls it. With sensual smoothness he expertly parts my thighs with his knee and finds his way between my legs. His kisses burn along the soft vulnerability of my throat. I’m already soaking wet for him.
Without warning, he thrusts the entire length of his cock inside as he bites playfully down on my lip.
“Holy fuck,” I moan.
“Good morning,” he groans.
His hips are thrusting slowly against me, and I can feel every sensation and movement of his dick as he sheathes himself to the hilt and slowly withdraws, only to rock into me again. It’s delicious, decadent, and devastating.
My surprised body shivers, aching for more, and my fingers dig pleadingly into his shoulders as I curl up against him, moaning in pleasure. The friction and heat between us is intense, and I get wetter and wetter with each of his thrusts.
He pulls me up until I am sitting in his lap, his cock deep inside me, my legs wrapped around him like a pretzel. The angle is intense for both of us and we’re gasping and humping and clinging together. I can feel his powerful thighs contracting beneath my hips, bouncing me on him. Each time he moves his cock pushes deeper inside.
His strong arms are wrapped around my back and I move into them, arching. Greedily, his mouth swoops down to suck and tease one nipple, grazing until it firms into a sensitive and hard peak.
“I love having you in my mouth,” he groans.
I’m so sensitive, each touch of his lips and tongue on my nipples makes me tingle and burn all the way to my clit. Hungry, he reaches down and strokes me there at that most sensitive spot until I’m driven over the edge of sanity. Bane’s banging my g-spot and sucking my breasts, his thumb wreaking havoc on my clit.
“Oh my god,” I moan. “Yes…Oh God, baby, yes…”
I cum, a tidal wave of shivering heat that rips through my body from toes to scalp and I swear to god my hair stands on end. For a second I can’t breathe, I can’t move.
“Oh, Jesus!” Bane groans.
I know he likes to watch me cum, so I open my eyes to meet his gaze at the peak of my orgasm, showing him everything I feel.
Straining his hips into me, he shakes his head in wonder as his face twists in release. We cling onto each other, shivering, and our lips lock in a deep and wet kiss. His grasp on my back loosens until his fingertips are light, stroking my skin reverently. I bury my face in his shoulders, spreading my fingers over the firm ridges of his chest. It feels like home here, with his cock still inside me and his scent washing over and his touch and his possession.
“That’s how we’ll start every day,” Bane promises. “And after that, everything else. We’ll do everything else in the world. This is just the beginning, baby.”
THE END
Prologue
Off the coast of New England...
My slender fingers tighten around the cold metal railing as the yacht skips over a tall, surging wave. A spray of salt water dashes itself across my cheek as my long black hair whips wildly in the wind. I’m standing right at the bow of this luxurious vessel, scanning the horizon for a glimpse of dry land. The rocky coastline disappeared from view in our wake after what felt like the blink of an eye. This whole insane undertaking is unfolding more quickly than I ever could have imagined. I can’t help but wonder if I’ll be able to keep my head above water and see my assignment through. But as I glance around at the open waters of the Atlantic Ocean, I know one thing for certain:
There’s no turning back now.
A loud burst of music washes over the topside deck, followed by a chorus of tipsy giggles. I glance over my shoulder as a trio of gorgeous young women stumble through a swinging door and out into the open air, scattering my solitude to the salty wind. Ah, well. If I wanted peace and quiet, I could have stayed back in Boston like the good girl I’ve always been. Up until now, that is.
“Logan! What’re you doing out here all alone?” asks one of the girls, a leggy blonde named Brie. “The party’s just getting started below deck.”
“I’m saving up my energy for the island,” I tell her, pretending not to mind when she sloshes a bit of piña colada onto my black miniskirt.
“That’s fair,” nods Ani, a pixie-like brunette who’s also decided to give the wild side a try. “From what I’ve heard about The Club, you’re gonna need all the energy you can muster. The guys there are supposed to be pretty ruthless.”
“Here’s hoping!” crows the third girl, a petite redhead named Kari.
“If I’m not completely spent in an oversexed haze by the time morning rolls around, I’m asking for my money back.”
“Kari, you’re so bad!” Brie squeals, her blue eyes going wide as saucers. “I still can’t believe you talked us into this.”
“Oh please, Brie,” Kari laughs, rolling her eyes, “You’ve been going on about this place for years, now.”
“Ever since we were lowly little freshmen,” Ani grins, taking a long swig of her cocktail. “Don’t tell me this isn’t the best graduation present of all time.”
“I know you’re right,” Brie sighs, leaning unsteadily against the railing, “I guess I’m just a little...nervous. It’s been nothing but preppy frat boys for me for the last four years. This is going to be...quite the change of pace.”
“Scared you won’t be able to handle a real man?” Ani teases.
“Maybe a little,” Brie admits.
“Don’t worry,” Kari says, looping an arm around her blonde friend’s waist, “We’ll all look out for each other. We won’t let any of the big, bad bikers bite. Not too hard, anyway.”
“I have to say,” Ani remarks, swinging her gaze my way, “I was a little surprised when you asked to come along tonight, Logan.”
“Yeah,” Kari agrees, cocking her head at me, “You never seemed like much of a party girl in school.”
“What can I say,” I shrug, smiling as gamely as I can, “People change, I guess.”
The girls accept my vague answer and fall into giddy speculation about what the night has in store for us. I hardly knew any of them while we were undergrads together in Boston. But the second I caught wind of their plans to visit The Club as a graduation treat, they became my most valuable of acquaintances. It’s not just any pretty young thing who can get an invite to The Club, after all. A joy ride on this yacht is damn near impossible to score, unless you know the right people. Lucky for me, these three happen to be the exact right people. Talk about alumni networking, huh?
“Oh my god,” Brie breathes, nearly dropping her cocktail overboard, “There it is!”
