CONTROL: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Blackened Souls MC)

by Naomi West

  Unfortunately, there was business to attend to.

  The living room in Star's apartment was small, but more than enough to accommodate him, Star, and Blade, the president of the Blood Warriors. Blade stood across from them, in front of the small picture window with its blinds pulled down. He and Star both sat on the couch, inches apart.

  “Star, meet Blade. Blade, meet Star.”

  Star gave a little, uncertain wave. “A pleasure.”

  Blade nodded. “Likewise, little lady.”

  “Good, introductions done. Now, you gonna tell me what's going on with my little brother?” Tanner asked.

  “We found Brendon,” Blade said, clearly not wanting to mince words. He wasn't that type of man, anyways. “We got a lead on him next town over, buying drugs by the college there. Saw him at Mesquite and Hillcrest”

  The news hit Tanner like a punch in the gut. That wasn't like Brendon at all. He shook his head, incredulous. “I don't believe it,” Tanner said. “My brother'd never touch that shit. It had to have been somebody else that just looked like him.”

  “People do weird things,” Star murmured from beside him. “Believe me.”

  Tanner glanced at her, wondering if she was referring to what they'd just done. Or, rather, if that statement came from personal experience in this kind of thing.

  “No, Tanner,” Blade said. “It was him. Tyke saw him with his own two eyes, dude. It was Brendon.”

  He shook his head again. There was no way.

  Star put a hand over his. “I know some people over there. My . . . uh . . . some of my family got wrapped up in that shit, too. I think I can help you find him.”

  He found himself flipping his hand around so he could squeeze it. He felt a stirring in his jeans, again. Just her touch seemed to get him halfway to hard.

  But, still, this was club business. More importantly, it was his personal business. And he needed to keep her out of places she didn't belong. “I think we've got this handled.”

  “Come on, Tanner,” Blade butted in. “Girl says she can help, let her help. Take help where you can find it.”

  Tanner grimaced. “Fine. We go tomorrow, okay?”

  Star smiled a little and turned back to Blade.

  “Good,” Blade said. “If you two find him, you let us know, and we'll come fast as we can. No sense in spooking him with the whole gang showing up.”

  “Right,” Tanner agreed.

  Blade glanced from Tanner to Star and back again. “I'll be outside, Tanner. Boys are all heading up to the Crow.”

  Tanner nodded. “Got it. Be out in a minute.”

  “Good meeting you, Star,” Blade said on his way out.

  Star cleared her throat. “You'd better get going, before the boys start worrying we're getting married or something.”

  Tanner smirked. Marriage? Nah. Fucking? Yeah, that'd be closer to what he was wanting. “Tomorrow, then?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Yeah, tomorrow.”

  He stayed there on the couch, though, his eyes flickering down to her lips again. He wanted to taste them one more time before he left. But, the way his body was stirring, he knew he wouldn't make it out with the guys if he did.

  She looked back at him, her mouth half-parted. Her tongue came out, just barely touched her upper lip. She was thinking the same thing, he knew. But, there'd be plenty of time for making babies. Later. Right now, it was time for him to see his boys and drink down a few beers. After all, the club was the most important thing.

  Tanner made the first move, breaking the spell. He got up from the couch and headed for the front door. Star trailed after him. He opened the door and went to step outside, but Star stopped him with a light touch on his hand with just the tips of her fingers.

  “Yeah?” he asked as he turned around.

  She pressed her body close to him, molding herself to his form, and pulled his lips down to hers. She pushed her tongue into his mouth, groaning as she tasted him.

  He pulled her into his arms, his hands running over the tight jeans stretched over her ass. They broke apart after a long, intimate moment, her teeth lightly biting his lower lip as they parted.

  “You were amazing earlier,” Star nearly whispered. “I didn't know sex could be like that.”

  Tanner grinned despite himself. “Never been with a biker before, that's why.”

  “Whatever,” Star said, rolling her eyes. “Now, hurry up and get drunk so you can get to sleep early. We've gotta find your brother tomorrow morning.”

  He nodded before showing himself out.

  As he headed to his bike, and to join the rest of the guys, images of her perfect tits, her great ass, and that cupid's bow of a mouth invaded his thoughts. He tried to dispel them as he climbed onto his bike and started it, but to no avail.

  He rode all the way to the Old Crow with one of the worst hard-ons of his life.

  Chapter Nine

  Star

  Star clutched to Tanner's bike as they tore down the highway. It wasn't a terribly long ride to the college where they'd spotted Brendon, but it was glorious any way she looked at it.

  There was just something about the feel of the roaring bike pressed between her legs, the way the wind rushed over her body, and how this strong, manly biker seemed to fit so perfectly in her arms.

  Out in the distance, storm clouds gathered, coming closer with each moment. But, Star didn't mind. Instead, her thoughts were filled with memories of the night before. Of how Tanner's hand felt as it held her hands above her head. How his cock had felt inside her.

  She hoped that, after this stuff with Brendon was sorted, they could get back to the business at hand.

  Of course, she also worried that revelations about her past, and her parents, wouldn't dissuade Tanner when he found out. And, if she meant to help him, there was no way she'd be able to hide the truth. She just hoped that stoic persona of his kept going, and that he avoided asking too many questions.

  Once they hit town, she directed him to one of the sleazier neighborhoods. It wasn't near where Brendon had been spotted, but she knew a guy who had dealt to her mother in the past, a guy who might know something.

  One of their many “field trips” during her junior high years was when her mother dragged her out here. She couldn't afford a babysitter, because that would have taken away from her drug money. And she couldn't leave Star home alone, since that might get CPS called on her.

  Even back then, the irony hadn't been lost on Star.

  “Right here,” Star shouted into Tanner's ear as they pulled up in front of the shotgun shack of a crackhouse. The sickly green paint was peeling, one of the sets of windows was covered in aluminum foil, and the foundation had long ago begun to crumble.

  “Here?” Tanner asked, his voice full of disbelief. “You know people that fucking live in this place?”

  “Unfortunately,” Star replied as she hopped down off the bike, “yes.” She turned and started to head in.

  Behind her, he killed the bike and put up the kickstand.

  She turned around when he heard his boots crunch gravel. “No, Tanner. I got this. Quentin's cool, okay? I've known him since I was a kid.”

  “I'm not sending you in there alone,” he said.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Then I'm not going in. A big biker dude is going to spook him, and then we won't know anything about Brendon.”

  He sighed and rolled his eyes, clearly accepting the fact that he had to give some control away on this. “Fine. Just get what we need so we can get out of this shithole.”

  She spun on her heel and headed to the front door. She knocked quietly on the door. If you pounded on the front door of a place like this, they were liable to think you were the cops and head out the back door. Not that the cops really gave a shit about this place. Places like this were part of the landscape. The sordid little den had been here for years, and it would be here for many more.

  Feet sounded on the other side of the door and her side of the pee
phole darkened as someone looked outside. “Who're you?” called a man's voice from the other side.

  “Star Bentley,” she said. “My mother used to bring me here a couple years ago.”

  “What d'you want, chickadee? You wanna carry on the family tradition or something?”

  “Just want you to open the door, so I can ask you a couple questions.”

  “Questions? You a fucking five-oh or some shit?”

  “Five-oh? Quentin, isn't that a little gangster?” she asked the door. “You're one of the whitest guys I've ever met. You like the Grateful Dead, Phish, and The String Cheese Incident. Just open up. I'm trying to find someone.”

  “Fine, fine,” Quentin said. He slid back the chain on the other side of door, and multiple deadbolts sounded as he flipped them open. He swung the door open just a crack and stuck his head out. The drug dealer was just a normal-looking hippie guy with a three–day-old beard on his face and long, stringy hair. He took a good look at her and said, “Oh, shit, girl, I remember you! How's that hot-momma of yours doing?”

  She was pretty sure her mother had fucked Quentin a few times, when she'd been short on cash. Star didn't like to think about it, though, or what it meant.

  “Hopefully, she's dead,” Star replied, her voice flat. “Now, are you going to let me in?”

  “Who's that?” Quentin asked, gesturing with his chin to Tanner.

  “My ride. Now, come on, Quentin. Do you want people seeing us out here?”

  “Nah, you're right,” he said, pushing the door open wide for her. “Come on in. Mi casa es su casa.”

  She stepped inside the dark, dank, smoky house. A wave of body odor hit her like a city bus as she looked around. He had the same old couch he'd always had, the one his cat had torn up on one side and a junkie had lit on fire on the other.

  He closed the door behind her, completing the doom and gloom and depression of the place.

  She shivered and shoved down the memories of this place, of having to do homework at the wobbly table in the dining room, at having to worry about whether or not her pencil was going to get stolen by a rat. Or if she'd get raped by a junkie while her mom shot up in the bathroom.

  “Now, whatchu need, girl?”

  She reached into her back pocket and pulled out her phone. She flipped it on and pulled up the picture of Brendon that Tanner had sent her that morning. “Seen this guy?”

  Quentin shook his head. “Nah, I ain't ever seen him before.”

  “Look again, Quentin, it's important. This was back before he started, so maybe his hair is longer, got a beard maybe? Definitely thinner now than in this picture.”

  He reached up, scratched the hair on his chin. “He have a girl or something? Some real trashy chick, real down-to-fuck when he's not around?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe?” From what little Tanner had told her about Brendon and Willow, the woman he'd run off with, it could be true. “This look like that guy? Do you remember what his name was?”

  “I dunno,” he said, shaking his head. “Judd, John, Jack? Some shit like that, started with a J, I think. Knew his girl a whole lot better than him, you know what I'm saying.”

  She ignored the last part of his comment. She didn't need a mental image of Quentin fucking anything, let alone Tanner's younger brother's woman. “Are you certain? Do you know where he normally hangs out?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I'm sure.” He gave her the address. “He owe you guys money or some shit?”

  She shook her head and stepped past him, heading for the door. This place gave her the creeps. “No, just a favor for a friend.”

  “Cool. Well, you guys need anything, you let me know,” he said from behind her as she stepped out into the bright light of day.

  “Yeah, I will,” she said as she headed down the cracked walkway, back to Tanner, who was already getting the bike up and going. “Thanks Quentin.”

  “Say hello to yo' momma when you see her, too,” Quentin shouted after her before slamming the front door shut. The deadbolts and chains slid into place one after the other as she walked away, helping to seal shut the memories of that awful place.

  The sun washed over her, cleansing her as she walked the short distance to the bike. She felt like it rejuvenated her, helped to remove all the grungy memories. She reminded herself that it was her past, just her past, and those things had made her who she was. They helped to form her, but they didn't control her.

  Tanner kicked the bike and it roared into life. He twisted the throttle up a notch.

  She threw a leg over the seat behind Tanner and hopped on.

  “You get something?”

  “Yeah. He's down a few blocks from the university, near an old hardware store.”

  “Who was that, anyways?”

  She chewed the inside of her cheek, trying not to think about the past or all her memories of her mother. Those were supposed to remain in Quentin's house. “Sort of a family friend, unfortunately.”

  Tanner grunted but, thankfully, didn't reply. Thank God, he knew how to keep out of her private life, even if it had taken her a moment to respect his.

  And, with that, they were off to find Tanner's prodigal brother, Brendon.

  # # #

  Tanner

  Tanner and Star pulled up in front of the hardware store that Quentin had given them the address for. He looked around at the crumbling businesses, at the trash on the street. Though it was only a couple blocks from the university, the place looked like it had been deserted by city services years ago.

  Fuck. It was just like little brother to have gotten himself into this shit. First, it was that whore Willow. Now, drugs. He didn't doubt that she'd gotten him wrapped up in it, too.

  They got off the bike and looked around.

  “Junkies don't just hang out inside stores,” Star said. “They don't let them loiter. He's probably in an alley or behind a business here.”

  “A fucking alley?” Tanner asked. “You've gotta be shitting me.”

  “Did you not just see where we came from? Quentin's place is high society for some of these people.”

  “They're not 'these people,'” he grated. “We're talking about my brother here.”

  “Sorry,” Star said, clearly trying to make a real apology. “You're right. I should know that better than anyone. Everyone is someone's child, right?”

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “Some just make bigger mistakes than others.”

  “Well, let's just see if we can find him, okay?”

  As Star finished speaking, a trash can rolled over in the alleyway behind him. He raised an eyebrow at Star.

  “As good a lead as any,” she said.

  Together, they walked to the mouth of the alley and looked in. Rotten garbage, old oil, and God-only-knew what else assaulted their senses like the military forming a beachhead.

  “Jesus,” Tanner groaned under his breath at the smell. He looked farther into the alley, near the back.

  About thirty feet in, a crumpled human form in ratty old clothes was curled up next to one of those steel trashcans you could find at any home and garden store.

  Tanner's stomach sunk as he headed into the alleyway. “Brendon?” he asked, an edge to his voice. “That you, bro?”

  Star, more cautious than Tanner, warily followed behind him. Up ahead, the form rolled over and groaned in a raspy, stricken voice.

  “Brendon? Bro?”

  “Who . . . what? Tanner, that you?”

  “Brendon!” He broke into a run, splashing through who-knew what, glass vials crunching under the soles of boots. He came to a stop over the dilapidated form of his brother curled up in the fetal position. “What the fuck are you doing, bro? How fucked up are you?”

  “What?” Brendon asked as he sat up and ran a hand through his greasy hair. “Stop yelling, Tanner . . . I'm fine, man. Just, you know, taking a nap.”

  He didn't look fine, though. His shirt looked like it had seen better days, like maybe a decade before, and his shabby coat w
as missing one of its sleeves. The smell coming off him was atrocious, like he hadn't showered in weeks or months.

  Could Blade have been right? Was Brendon really a junkie now? Tanner had to find out. Brendon squawked in protest as Tanner reached down and grabbed him by the wrist, pulling up his sleeve. Red, black, and blue track marks covered the inside of his forearm and the crook of his elbow.

  “What the fuck, Tanner?” Brendon yelled as he snatched his arm out of Tanner's grip.