by Susan Stoker
Cruz finally whipped Mickie upright. Keeping his arm around her neck, Cruz turned to Steel. “Fuck yeah,” was all he said.
Steel laughed and looked at Mickie’s chest as he roughly grabbed Li’s breast and squeezed. “When you’re done with those titties, I’ll take a taste for myself. I might like Asian pussy, but their tits leave something to be desired.”
Cruz looked down and cursed under his breath. Mickie’s nipples had popped over the top of her low-cut bra and were poking through the mesh tank top she had on. The sight was erotic, and Cruz wanted to gut Steel for looking at what was his.
Mickie looked at herself and gasped. Obviously being held over Cruz’s arm had been too much for the miniscule material of her bra. She was totally flashing the scary man standing with Li, and everyone else for that matter. She brought a hand up to cover herself, but Cruz grabbed it and squeezed her fingers tightly. She held back a gasp.
“I don’t think I’ll be done with these tits for a while, Steel. Sorry.” Cruz held Mickie’s hand in his own and turned her away from Steel and his fucking eyes.
“I know, Mickie. I know. Hang on, I’ll cover you in a second,” Cruz whispered the words as he leaned down to her chest to put on a show for the guys sitting in the corner with the other women. He licked up the side of Mickie’s neck and nibbled on her earlobe.
“Throw your head back and put one of your hands on the back of my head.”
When Mickie hesitated, Cruz ordered curtly, “For Christ’s sake, Mickie. If you want to fucking live to see another day, do it. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Cruz felt her hand timidly rest on the back of his head, and he died inside as he felt her fingers trembling against him. Deciding to cut this little tête-à-tête short, he moved his head to her chest. Pretending to nuzzle against her, he grabbed the edge of her bra through the mesh with his teeth and pulled it up and over her nipple, covering her again. He did the same to the other side, making her at least mostly decent once again.
He lifted his head and refused to look at her. Cruz couldn’t bear to see the disgust in Mickie’s eyes. If he could get her out of this fucked-up situation in one piece, he’d take her hatred. He should’ve prepared for this. He’d known Mickie was scared for her sister. She’d even flat-out suggested that she do something crazy to help Angel…this was certainly that. Fucking hell.
Mickie tried to control her breathing. From the second she’d entered the warehouse, she’d been off kilter. From the sounds and what she’d seen on the other side of the room, to the big scary man grabbing her, then seeing Cruz there and him acting so weird…it was all so overwhelming.
Just when she’d thought she’d been completely wrong about Cruz, she’d finally figured it out.
She’d thought he was going to force her to snort the drugs on the table, but he hadn’t. Then when he’d cushioned her against the table with his hand as he’d shoved her, and finally just now, when he’d covered her so she wasn’t flashing everyone, she understood what was really going on. At least she thought she did.
No matter what she heard, Cruz’s actions toward her were telling. Cruz was in security, he had a “thing” that night, he hated drugs… While she might not like the words he was using, or how he outwardly treated her, she got it. He had to be undercover—and Mickie swore not to do anything to fuck it up for him.
If he wasn’t undercover, he was actually a member of this club, but thinking back to everything she’d learned about him…after seeing where he lived…she didn’t think that was the case. She didn’t like that he’d obviously lied to her, but at the moment, all she cared about was getting out of there in one piece. She’d talk to him later and learn just how much he’d lied about. But as of right now, he was the only thing standing between her and her worst nightmare. She’d keep her mouth shut no matter how awful things got.
For the first time since entering the building, Mickie relaxed. Cruz was here. He’d make sure nothing happened to her. He was one of the good guys, she was betting her life on it.
She glanced around quickly, inwardly wincing at the actions on the other side of the room. She didn’t see Angel anywhere, which relieved her, but also freaked her out as well. What if she was in a backroom doing something worse than what was happening out here in the open? No, she refused to believe that. Angel always liked to make a grand entrance, she was most likely trying to be fashionably late or something.
Cruz led Mickie over to the tamer side of the room. He kept his arm around her neck and put one hand low on her ass. There were no open seats, so he simply leaned against the wall and pulled Mickie into his side. He kept her head pushed against his chest. He knew she’d be able to hear his heart beating way too fast, but Cruz didn’t give a shit.
“Hey, Smoke,” Tiny called from a nearby chair. “Didn’t think you were into club pussy, man. Wanna swap when you’re done? I’d love to bury myself between those fat thighs—”
“Shut the fuck up, Tiny,” Cruz growled, tightening his arm around Mickie’s waist. “I’m not fucking swapping. She’s mine until I’m done with her, and I don’t fucking share.”
Tiny just smirked. “All right, but when you get sick of that, you can have some of this.” Tiny pulled down the shirt of the woman who was sitting on his lap until her breast was exposed, and he squeezed so hard everyone could see his fingers turn white with the pressure. The woman yelped and squirmed against him futilely.
Cruz felt Mickie shift uneasily next to him. “Turn your head, hon. Don’t look.” His words were muffled and gruff…and tortured.
They all looked to the door when it opened once more. Angel strode into the room as if she were the Queen of England and there wasn’t a drug-filled orgy going on in front of her eyes. No one stepped up to greet her and she looked around for Ransom.
Mickie tried to pull out of Cruz’s arms, but he tightened his hold on her. He wouldn’t let her look up at him. “Stay the fuck still. If she recognizes you, we’re both fucked.”
Mickie held her breath and stared at the scene unfolding in front of her, her heart breaking.
Angel kept searching the room until she found Ransom. He was on the other side of the space, where his club members were screwing the strippers and whores. He was sitting on a couch with two women kneeling in front of him. His pants were around his thighs and the women were taking turns sucking him off, as they, in turn, were being hammered from behind by two other men.
Ransom smirked at Angel and lifted a hand and crooked his finger at her. As if planned, and it probably was, the music abruptly stopped. Besides the sound of sex echoing around the room, it was fairly quiet.
Angel hesitantly walked over to Ransom.
“You want this? On your knees, bitch. Suck me.”
“But, Ransom…I don’t understand.”
“What don’t you understand?”
“I thought, we…you… I’m your girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend?” Ransom threw his head back and laughed. He held one of the women down over his cock as she deep-throated him. She began to gag, but he still held her. “I don’t have fucking girlfriends. What do you think this is, high school?”
He let up on the woman and she pulled her head off him with a gasp, saliva and pre-come dripping from her mouth. Ransom pushed her away and reached for the other woman’s neck. He forced her head down on his cock and held her there as he had the first woman.
Angel continued to stand in front of him as if in a trance. It was as though she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
“Why would I want to tie myself to one woman when I can have all of this?” Ransom flung out a hand to encompass the room. “You were a nice change of pace for me, but you were just a fuck, Angel. You’ll always be just a fuck. Now be a good girl and go join your friends. Snort some coke, but don’t forget to pay for it first, then see if you can find one of my brothers willing to fuck you. I’m sure they’ll line up for the chance. After all, they’ve heard from me what a tight cunt you have.�
�
Ransom allowed the second woman to come up and off his dick, and she coughed harshly as she too gulped in air. Ransom gestured to Angel, “Unless you want to come sit on my dick and get me off first? I’ll take that pussy any day of the week.”
“Are you kidding me? I’m not going to fuck you after you’ve probably had your dick in these whores’ cunts.” Angel’s words were acidic.
Ransom laughed mercilessly. “Bitch, there’s no ‘probably’ about it. If you think yours was the only pussy I was getting, you’re delusional. I fuck whoever I want, whenever I want, and don’t give a shit what you want. I like your money. I like your rich friends’ money. I like your pussy, ass, and throat around my cock, but honestly, I don’t give a shit whose hole my cock is in as long as I get off.”
The music started up again after Ransom’s harsh words and people went back to what they were doing before his little show.
Everyone laughed as Angel spun away from Ransom and headed to the other side of the room as if she didn’t know where she was going. Roach had picked himself up off the floor where he’d landed when Cruz had punched him, and was quick to get to Angel’s side to comfort her. Ransom merely leaned back on the couch, smiling as one of the completely naked strippers came up to him and offered to sit on his dick and finish him off.
Mickie mumbled into Cruz’s chest, “I need to go to her.” She really didn’t want to go anywhere at the moment. Cruz’s arms made her feel safe in a definitely unsafe world. Even if he agreed, Mickie wasn’t sure her feet would be able to move.
“Fuck no.”
Mickie squirmed against Cruz, thankful for his answer but feeling guilty nonetheless. “Please?”
“No.”
“Problem, Smoke?” Steel asked from a chair nearby. He had Li on his lap and his hand was buried under her skirt. Her eyes were closed and her head was thrown back, obviously enjoying Steel’s attention.
“No problem. Bitch just needs a firm hand.” Cruz grabbed the back of Mickie’s neck and let go of her waist enough so he could bend her over. He held her there with his hand holding her still and the other planted in the middle of her back. He pushed his foot between her legs and spread them so they were shoulder-width apart. She was completely helpless in his grasp. Her head was parallel with the ground now and Cruz leaned over to furiously whisper in her ear.
“Stop it right fucking now. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in deep shit here. Keep your mouth shut. Angel can take care of herself. You’re my concern right now, not your sister. You can help her tomorrow. Do what I tell you, when I fucking tell you, and don’t bring any more attention to us. Got it?”
Mickie tried to nod, but couldn’t. She sobbed once, but ruthlessly held it back. Even though Cruz had a tight hold on her, he wasn’t hurting her. His words were mean and harsh, but he was exactly right. Mickie held no illusions about what would happen if someone, anyone, figured out what Cruz was doing there.
Cruz whipped her upright and pulled her into his embrace again, her head shoved against the top of his chest. He held her against him with a hand on the back of her neck and his fingers digging into her side.
“You need any help with that, just let me know,” Steel commented dryly. “But it seems you have a good handle on her.”
“Yeah. I got this. She’s just got to learn to do what I fucking want her to do.”
The other MC members laughed, high-fived, and agreed.
When the attention of most of the members went back to the women they were fondling or to their drinks, Cruz relaxed a fraction. Fuck, that had been close. He didn’t know what time it was, but watching Ransom push the naked woman off his lap after he came, and pull up his pants, Cruz figured it was about time Chico Malo showed. There was no other reason for Ransom to make himself presentable.
Roach had steered Angel over to the tables covered in coke residue and encouraged her to snort six lines of the stuff. It was way too much, but Angel obviously wanted to forget what she’d just seen and heard, and was just stubborn enough not to leave the party altogether. After she’d snorted the drugs, and downed two shots of tequila, Roach took her to the other side of the room, away from her friends. Cruz figured she went with it because she was trying, unsuccessfully, to make Ransom jealous. The second they were seated, Roach had one hand on her crotch and the other on her breast, but Angel’s eyes never left Ransom.
Just as Cruz was working through his head how he could get Mickie the hell out of there before everything went down, the door opened. A tall, slender Hispanic man entered the room, followed by at least ten other men.
Chico Malo had arrived—and all hopes of safely getting Mickie out of the middle of a turf war between a pissed-off Mexican drug lord and a cocky motorcycle club president disappeared like a puff of smoke.
As the door shut behind Chico Malo and his thugs, Cruz could only silently pray Dax and the rest of the task force would get there sooner rather than later.
Chapter Seventeen
“Welcome to my club!” Ransom boomed, striding to greet Chico Malo before he made it too far into the room.
Three men moved so they were standing in front of their boss, preventing Ransom from getting too close to him.
“What’s all this? Can’t I greet a friend in my own club?”
“Stay back,” one of the bodyguards growled, putting his hand on the butt of the gun in his waistband.
“Come on, Chico! Look around. Look at how much fun is being had. You want a woman? A smoke? A drink? Name it and it’s yours.”
Taking Ransom at his word, the drug kingpin slowly looked around the room. The music had been turned down after his arrival, but the strippers were still undulating against the poles that had been erected for the party, their eyes glassy, and bodies moving to the music. There were a few MC members passed out around the room and more not even bothering to pause their screwing of the club whores to greet the newcomer.
Chico Malo’s gaze roamed to the other side of the room where Angel’s friends were huddled with various members of the club. His eyes went to each woman, and Cruz’s stomach clenched when they stayed on Mickie’s ass a bit too long for his taste.
“¿Qué es esto?” Chico Malo asked, gesturing toward the right side of the room, obviously noticing the difference in the caliber of women on that side.
“Glad you asked,” Ransom smirked. “That’s the high-class pussy side of the room. See, this here’s the reason we need to up our stakes in the market. These bitches have money to spend, and they want to spend it on my cocaine. You like what you see? Help yourself. My brothers would be glad to share.”
Chico Malo looked back to Ransom and raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, take your pick. It’s the least I can do for a gentleman like yourself. And you know what, if we continue to do business together, you can have all the high-class pussy you want, whenever you want it.”
“You don’t think I can get it on my own?” Chico Malo growled. “You don’t think we have high-class Mexican pussy?” His words were ground out in obvious irritation, his accent making the words seem caustic and biting.
“No, no, I didn’t mean that. I just thought that maybe you’d like to partake in American high-class pussy, to break it up a bit. You know, for variety.”
Chico Malo seemed to consider Ransom’s words. He smiled and then turned and stared right at Cruz. “I want that one. The curvy one in black.”
Cruz tightened his arms around Mickie as she gasped in horror. “No. Oh God.”
“No. She’s my fuck.” Cruz bit the words out, his heart hammering in his chest. Dammit all to hell. A bad situation just got a hundred times worse.
“Prospect, you fucking know better than that. You don’t get club pussy, remember? And any woman who steps foot in my clubhouse becomes club pussy unless she’s an old lady.” Ransom’s words were hard. He waved his hand at Bubba, who strode across the room toward Cruz, determined to do his president’s bidding.
“Mickie? What the fuc
k?”
Angel’s words rang out across the room. She’d pulled herself away from Roach and was standing near Ransom, on the other side of the group of Mexican men. Her bra had been undone under her tank top and her short skirt was askew, though still covering the important bits. Her voice came out slurred, but still understandable. “Are you spying on me?”
Ransom turned toward Angel for a moment, then looked back at Cruz. “Well, well, well. The prodigal fucking sister has entered the lion’s den. Looks like you were doing just as I asked and keeping a close eye on her after all. Bring her here, Bubba. I think we need to give her a proper Hermanos Rojos welcome.”
“I said no,” Cruz ground out, his teeth clenched. He’d seen what Ransom and the club did to the whores who wanted to be “regulars.”
“You don’t fucking get to say no, Smoke. Everyone in this club belongs to me. What I say goes. If I want to bend the bitch over and fuck her up the ass right here in front of everyone, I’ll fucking do it. In fact, now we’re all going to do it. Give her to Bubba and back the fuck away.”
“No way! No fucking way!” Angel screeched at her sister, stomping her feet as if she were ten years old. “Ransom is mine. Mine! I’m the one who sucks his cock. Me! He sticks his dick in me! I’m the one he wants. Why would he want you? You’re a fat, stuck-up, prissy little nobody! You’re just here to fucking babysit me.” The drugs and alcohol in Angel’s system had clearly made her lose any filter she might have had.
“Angel, shut the fuck up and get out.”
Angel, obviously high enough that she didn’t care what her former boyfriend was saying, refused. “No!” She stomped her foot again for dramatic effect. “I found the club first. It’s mine! Not hers. You can’t want her. You like fucking me.”
