CRASH: The Rogue Sinners MC

by Claire St. Rose

  He tapped a moment, sending Whiteshirt a text. Ready.

  One minute. Front, Lolly’s phone buzzed.

  Ironside tapped the man next to him and pointed two fingers at his eyes then at the door, then held up one finger. The sign was repeated down the line. They waited until the door burst open. Three Saracens stepped around the side of the dumpster, their guns popping quietly. Ironside and his men opened up, but the range was too great and, despite the hail of gunfire, only one Saracen was hit.

  There was a lull as the two clubs tried to work out what to do, when Ironside heard the roar of a straining engine. He turned as a pickup skidded to a stop and five men bailed out, crouching behind the truck and firing on their position.

  The Knights turned to face the new threat, but they were at a severe disadvantage. They went to the ground, but they were taking fire from two sides, and two Knights were hit. Whiteshirt tried to escape, to come to the aid of his club, but was driven back by the men behind the dumpster. They had walked right into a trap and were being cut to pieces. He could hear the soft pops of suppressed weapons fire on the other side of the building and knew they were on their own.

  ***

  Peyton watched as the men crouched behind their truck, their weapons jumping as they fired into the hedge the Knights were crouching behind. Gritting her teeth, she yanked the van into gear and tromped on the throttle. The van roared, quickly gaining speed as she braced.

  ***

  Ironside saw the van bearing down on the truck, the men realizing too late the mortal danger they were in. They turned, one man getting a single shot off before the van smashed into the side of the truck, metal screaming as it slid along the side, shoving the truck aside before the van pirouetted to a stop, rocking hard on its springs.

  None of the Saracens could have survived the crash and Ironside turned his attention back to the men at the dumpster. He dropped the magazine on his weapon and slammed in a fresh one before he jumped to his feet, running across the parking lot, his weapon barking as he ran. Lolly was only a step behind, his gun also spitting death, Tinker bringing up the rear as he struggled after them, still in the fight even though he was bleeding badly, his left arm hanging useless from a gunshot wound.

  The Saracens returned fire, but had to move behind the dumpster for cover. Whiteshirt and Snap popped out, firing along the edge of building. Much closer, their aim was far more deadly and the lone remaining Saracen moved back to the side of the dumpster, firing at the three men, but with three to one odds, he didn’t last long.

  Ironside waved his arm, Whiteshirt and the men inside pouring out as the Knights stormed around the corner of the building. The Saracens were now the ones caught in a crossfire and were quickly cut down. As silence returned, Ironside turned to Whiteshirt. “Handle this!” he ordered as he turned and ran back to the front of the building, slowing to a walk with a grin of relief as he saw Peyton standing in the road beside the van.

  Peyton released the breath she’d been holding, began to run, then threw herself into Ironside’s arms as she reached him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  Calling in all their resources and favors, it still took hours for the Knights to clean up the mess. With two totaled vehicles, thirteen dead, including two Knights, and three wounded, the Knights had to scramble to remove all traces of what had gone down before the cops got wind of it.

  “How did they know you were at the BKS?” Ironside asked as he and Whiteshirt sat in kirche trying to figure out what had happened.

  “I don’t know. We obviously have a mole,” Whiteshirt said.

  “We suspected that.”

  “Yes, but this confirms it.”

  “This has to stop. We’re bleeding each other too much.”

  “I agree,” Whiteshirt said. “But how?”

  “Call Andrew? See if we can call it even?”

  “He’ll never agree to that. We’ve mauled them much more than they have us.”

  “It’s worth a try.”

  Whiteshirt shrugged. “It can’t hurt I guess. I’m more concerned about the mole.”

  “You’re not going to blame it on Peyton again are you?”

  “I don’t know. She’s the only new variable in this. I still can’t get past you thinking that her showing up when she did doesn’t mean anything. Did she know we were going to the studio?”

  “I don’t know how. I didn’t know. Why were you there anyway?”

  “Taking pictures for insurance, doing a little cleanup. Could she have found out somehow?”

  “No.”

  “Maybe someone called her? Maybe she’s passing information and doesn’t even know it.”

  “No. Nobody called her.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because my cock was inside her all night last night, and again this morning! Why did Honey lie?”

  “She won’t admit she lied. She claims she saw something, though she did finally agree that maybe it wasn’t a phone she saw.”

  “Who did you tell you were going to the studio?”

  Whiteshirt snorted. “Only everyone. I asked for volunteers to help with the cleanup.”

  Ironside slapped the table. “I hate this fucking shit! This is why I want to get us out of all this illegal shit! I’m so fucking tired of the backstabbing and the killing!”

  “Me too, brother. We’re moving as fast as we can.”

  “I know, but I’m not sure it’ll ever end, not until the Saracens are dealt with. Every time something goes wrong, they think it’s us.”

  Whiteshirt grinned. “Well, we did cost them a load of coke and a shipment of guns. Not to mention the guns they lost that started all this shit.”

  “That’s exactly my point! We didn’t have jack to do with the first shipment of guns that went missing, yet the first thing they did was try to hit one of our houses.”

  Whitehshirt shrugged. “Give Andrew a call,” he suggested. “Maybe your idea is just crazy enough to work. The worst that can happen is he won’t bite. If he doesn’t, we’re no worse off.”

  Ironside sat his phone on the table and then flicked through contacts until he found Andrew. He hadn’t called Andrew since he phoned to tell him the Knights were out of drugs and pulling out of guns.

  “You’ve got a lot of nerve calling me after the shit you’ve pulled,” Andrew growled.

  “You’re the one that started this when you hit Canfield.”

  “Don’t play innocent with me. You took our load of guns.”

  “If you have proof of that, show me, and I’ll hand over the brother who did it. If a Knight did it, it was unsanctioned.”

  “How am I supposed to have proof when they just disappeared? But I know it was you.”

  “You don’t know shit! We had nothing to do with it! Don’t blame us because your transporter fucked you.”

  “What do you want, Lothbrook?”

  “I want to stop the bloodshed.”

  “Yeah? How’s that?”

  “A truce. We call it even.”

  Andrew burst into laughter. “Not fucking going to happen. Not after you sent that bitch Peyton in here.”

  “We didn’t send her. She came to us because you fucked over her friend. You brought it on yourself.”

  “Fuck you, Lothbrook! She’s nothing but a lying, cheating whore. Because of her a lot of my brothers lost their lives!”

  “Cut the shit, Moore! The reason your brothers are dead is because you went up against us, and we fucked you, just like we did today. How many did you lose? Oh, that’s right, eleven! Eleven, Moore, to our two. How many did you lose yesterday when you tried to ambush us on the way to the airport? I know I killed six, including one with my bare hands. By my count, we lost three but you lost eight.”

  “And I’ll make you pay for every one of them!”

  “You can keep losing brothers, we both can, or we can stop it. Here. Now. We had nothing to do with the loss of your guns, but if you call off this war, I’ll guarantee Sa
racen safe passage on the Ninety to the docks so you can pick up your merchandise to make sure something like that doesn’t happen again.”

  There was a long pause. “Send that Peyton bitch to me and I’ll think about it.”

  “She has nothing to do with this.”

  “She has everything to do with it!” Andrew snarled. “She beat the shit out of my VP’s old lady. She busted a pool cue over my head. I know she was sniffing around for information to feed to you. I know it was because of her you took my girls. Send her to me, and we can talk about the war.”

  “Not going to happen.”

  “Good,” Andrew said, his voice cold and hard. “I’m going to enjoy sticking my cock up your ass.”

  Ironside’s phone bleeped as the call ended.

  Whiteshirt snorted. “That could have gone better.”

  “Fuck him. We need to find the mole and make an example out of him or her.”

  “You really think it’s a brother?”

  “No, but if we’re going on a mole hunt, we can’t rule anyone out.” He smiled. “Present company excluded.”

  “What about Peyton?”

  “I don’t think it’s her, if only because of today, but I’m not ruling her out.”

  Whiteshirt nodded, somewhat mollified. “I wish Dolch were here,” Whiteshirt said. “He found the last chick who was fucking us. He was a sneaky bastard, and that’s what we need right now.”

  Ironside nodded. “I wish we had all our brothers back.”

  Whiteshirt nodded in silent agreement.

  ***

  “This sucks,” Ironside snarled as the cab pulled away from the curb. He was the fucking President of the fucking Teutonic Knights, and he was reduced to taking a cab.

  “You still have your car,” Peyton said softly. Ironside had been a foul mood all day, and she knew he was hurting over the loss of his brothers, though he tried to hide it.

  “We’re a fucking motorcycle club, not a classic car club.”

  “Would you rather take a cab?”

  He snorted. “No.”

  “When is your bike supposed to be out of the shop?”

  “At least another week. They’re waiting on the new motor to ship.”

  “Take me for a ride in your car? It’s going to be a beautiful night and you can put the top down. It won’t be like on your bike, but it beats a cab.”

  He looked at her a moment, then softened. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. I haven’t had it out in months. I need to drive it anyway.”

  ***

  After a light dinner, she stood in front of the garage door as it rumbled up. She was kind of into bikers, one in particular, but not so much bikes. What she did like, however, were fast and sexy cars, and the one sitting in Ironside’s garage made her itch for a ride.

  She slid into the passenger’s seat, being careful to not ding the door, as Ironside quickly wiped the dust off the car with a mop on a stick. Car gleaming again, he settled into the driver’s seat and stuck the key in the ignition. “Let’s see if it starts,” mumbled as he twisted the key.

  The car cranked over slowly, then barked to life. He grinned at her. “Another couple of months sitting and it wouldn’t have started,” he said.

  “See! You need to do this.”

  He grinned and put the car into gear before creeping out of the garage. As the door lowered he revved the car, the supercharger whine clearly audible over the deep base rumble of the exhaust.

  “God, I love that sound!” she said as the top retracted and the windows lowered into the doors.

  “You like fast cars?” he asked as the top tucked away.

  “God, yes! Don’t you?”

  “They’re okay,” he said as he crept into the street, being careful so the car wouldn’t drag, but as soon as he was clear of the drive, he matted the throttle. The car screamed, the rear tires howling in protest as the car began to crab sideways down the road.

  Even though she was sort of expecting it, Peyton screamed in excitement as car began to slew sideways, the tires unable to cope with the horsepower. Ironside banged the car into second, the tires still wailing at their rough treatment as the car accelerated so hard she was afraid her seat back would snap and she would tumble into the rear seat.

  “Holy…shit!” she laughed as he let off the gas. She turned and looked over her shoulder at the cloud of tire smoke left in their wake. “How much power?” she asked, her heart still thudding in her chest.

  “It dyno’d at 640 at the rear wheels.”

  “Jesus!” she laughed. “This thing is a real panty dropper! Do it again!”

  ***

  They motored out of town, wandering along the edge of Lake Erie on Highway 6. Each time Ironside dipped deep into the throttle, whether it was to pass a slower car or just showing off at a stop light, and the car squeezed her back in the seat, she could feel her excitement rise. It was dark, the heat of the afternoon cooling, and the stars and moon were bright overhead. They were alone on the dark stretch of highway, the only light the car’s powerful headlamps spearing into the darkness and the occasional flash of light as they passed a house set off the road. With a smile, she reached over and began to caress his thigh, her fingers dragging down the inside of his leg.

  As her hand gripped his cock, he pushed up into her hand. He couldn’t do much, not behind the wheel, but the road was straight and the traffic light. Her nimble fingers worked the buttons on his fly until she could reach inside. He snarled softly as she dragged him out, his cock hard from her slow caresses. She took him into her hand and stroked him slowly until she unhooked her seatbelt and bent over to take him into her mouth.

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  Peyton bobbed her head slowly, her tongue flicking and darting as Ironside held her head with one hand, his other on the wheel. He’d tipped the steering wheel up to give her a bit more room and she was taking full advantage of it. What they were doing was incredibly dangerous, but that only increased the thrill of it, and she hoped he was man enough to take it and not crash his car.

  Ironside grunted softly as Peyton took him deep into her mouth, not looking down and focusing on the road. He damn sure wasn’t going to say no to a blowjob, and having one in a moving car was a new experience in the extreme. He grunted again, his climax rising within him as he pressed her down a little harder on his cock, not fighting the rising pleasure and allowing his orgasm to come.

  She could sense his rising excitement, his hips thrusting gently as she sucked and licked, purring as she battered the head of his cock with her tongue while stroking his shaft hard and fast. She felt the car accelerate hard, the supercharger wailing its song, the car pressing her back into the seat as they passed another car, and she wondered if the driver could see what they were doing.

  “I’m going to come,” he growled as he dipped the car back into the proper lane.

  She smiled, biting him gently on the tip of the cock before plunging down him again. She took him as deep as possible, almost to the point of gagging, and held him there as she scratched his balls softly. She pulled back and took a breath, disappointed that hadn’t pushed him over the edge, but plunged down him again, her tongue whipping his shaft.

  “Fuck!” he grunted a moment before he spilled into her mouth.

  She slid up his cock, sucking him dry before rising up, and after a quick check to make sure there was no oncoming traffic, kissed him thoroughly. “You liked that?” she purred as she pulled back and settled into her seat.

  “Yeah, but now it’s your turn,” he rumbled as his hand snaked into her shorts.

  She unbuttoned her pants and spread her legs to give him better access, so turned on she knew this wouldn’t take long. He stroked her softly a moment, smearing her wetness around, before plunging his finger into her.

  “Oh God,” she murmured, her head going to the seatback as her eyes closed, her legs splayed wide as he stroked and caressed. She sighed in pleasure, opening her eyes to glance at him. He was tilted sligh
tly toward the center of the car, his eyes occasionally flicking to her before returning to the road. She reached over and took his still hard cock in her hand and began to stroke it slowly.

  He checked the rearview to see the car they passed was well back, so he allowed the Chevelle to gradually slow as he tickled her button, building her up as she moaned softly, rocking her hips with her eyes closed. Slowly, imperceptibly, he allowed the car to slow, the headlights gaining on them. He glanced at the speedometer, 45…40…35…30, he watched the approaching lights as his finger touched and stroked. He pulled his hand back and quickly downshift to third, her eyes opening, her face twisting into a question.