by Lydia Pax
“What?”
But he knew, could see the flush on her cheeks, that glittering spark in her eyes.
Wild Girl. Turned on by her Trouble Man.
“I don’t want you to hurt anyone else,” she said. “Ever again, really. But that’s your business and you…you live your life, pilgrim. But knowing I’ve been with someone like that, it’s kind of…”
Her fingers traced up and down the line of his bicep, squeezing
“Hot?”
“Yeah.” She looked ashamed and turned on at the same time. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing,” he said, pulling her in by the waist. He kissed her, slow and heavy, loving the feel of her crushed against his body. His cock was hard in seconds. “Just wait until we consummate.”
“In your dreams,” she said.
But he could tell from her voice, from her body language, that it was in her dreams too. His cock pulsed just slightly at the thought. He wanted so badly to fuck her. He hadn’t planned on making it happen after they were married, but now that they were so close, he figured why the hell not? A romantic impulse took him, swept him away a bit, imagining fucking this woman for the first time only after she had become his wife and he her husband. There was something erotic about that to him, something taboo and electric that made him feel as virile as riding on his Harley.
They returned to Kyle and Mikhail—still staring at each other in rather adversarial fashion—and went to work.
The ceremony, such that it was, was short and simple. They filled out the paperwork quickly, only required to sign a few forms, pay the fee, and then stand before the judge, a somber middle-aged black man with reading glasses and a voice that sounded like his cold had a cold. When the judge looked at June—clearly so pure and brought up in a class far above Ram’s—and then Ram, he shook his head. He didn’t understand, but his role wasn’t to understand, it was to proceed with the law.
And he did. Ram held June’s hands as the judge read the declaration out loud—just a few sentences read off a small piece of paper with Kyle and Mikhail standing behind the two as witnesses.
And then it was done.
They were married.
Chapter 31
June rode with Ram back to his house on his bike, her entire body wrapped tight around his.
Kyle promised he could keep quiet for a few days, but no more than that. She knew she could trust him that far, and probably farther too. Kyle had never had much of a backbone—June was always fighting off bullies for him when they were kids. So long as nobody questioned Kyle about the marriage—and why would they?—their secret was safe.
And the secret was only intended to be secret for a little while. The whole point of the marriage was for everyone to know. June and Ram just wanted to control the flow of information. She thought she would tell her father tomorrow morning.
After a good, long, hard…consummation.
The thought made her feel warm and wet, clasping herself tighter against Ram’s tall, broad form.
Excitement, sexual and heated, filled her. It may have been a fake marriage, something they both intended to annul the second it was convenient, but she still wanted a very real consummation.
The thought had made her wet since almost the second the judge pronounced them man and wife. She stroked his heavy, chiseled abs through his shirt, growing wetter by the second as his bike vibrated with such perfect rhythm between her legs. Thinking of Ram above her, naked, her body entirely vulnerable underneath him, his massive cock sliding into her needy, greedy pussy and filling her up like no one else would have ever been able to…
He had already eaten her out like no one else could. And giving him a blowjob had turned her on like nothing else had. It only made sense, then, that fucking him would give her a ride like no one else would either—and June wanted that, badly.
But when they pulled up to his house, she saw Ace and the prospect, Nate, waiting there. The prospect had his bike, and Ace sat on the opened tailgate of Ram’s truck, smoking a cigar.
She noticed too for the first time that Mikhail was behind them, trailing them. Her thoughts had been a million miles away, focused on all the manners in which she planned to sex, suck, and serve Ram that night so that she was the ride he never forgot.
“It’s all ready,” Ace said to Ram as he pulled up. “We’re just waiting on you.”
“Good,” said Ram. “Let’s get to it.”
“What’s this?” she asked, stepping off the bike with Ram. “Get to what?”
“Oh,” said Ram. “You don’t want to know. Club business.”
“Aren’t I basically in the club now? We did just get married.”
Mikhail’s eyes became wide and he and Ace stepped away. Ram was left with June, hands on her hips.
“Well,” he said. “You are and you aren’t. How’s that?”
She stamped her foot and crossed her arms. “What are you doing?”
“June, listen.” He laughed and put his arms on her shoulders. “You’re great. You’re…really great. I like you a lot. But this is outside of your league, okay? This is our business, not yours. Just go inside, have a drink or something, watch some TV and I’ll be back later.” He rubbed his finger across her lip, and she couldn’t help but moan a little as he did. “And then I’ll come back and fuck your brains out when we’re done, how’s that?”
She was tempted. Awfully tempted. It was a nice, safe feeling to imagine being at home, waiting for him. Dreaming about him coming in, fresh from battle, praising him for conquering his enemies and keeping her safe, ravaging her body while they were both high on victory.
But it felt false, too. That was as hollow as anything a man tried to give a woman in this town. She pushed him back, shaking her head.
“I’m not going to be one of your honeys or your broads or whatever you call them, all right? You’re gonna go out at night, I’m gonna know what it’s about.”
His mood changed quickly, face hardening. “I don’t need your fucking permission, June, I don’t care who you are or what we just did.”
“I’m not talking about permission, you stupid trouble man. I’m talking about trust. You want me to trust you? You want me to get along with you? Then trust me. What’s happening?”
Ram paced away for a second, exchanging glances with his brothers. He stretched, putting his arms in the air and then down again. That pacing again—like a wild animal on the prowl.
Finally he squared before her and wiped his jaw. “I need a bike and I know a guy who’s got one.”
“And you must be stealing it or otherwise you wouldn’t try to be quiet about it.”
“Something like that, sure.”
“And Mikhail, he’s taking his bike to the site?”
“Yeah.”
“And you’re taking yours, and Nate’s riding his. And Ace is riding in the truck.”
“Yeah. Nate’s our lookout for the cops. Mikhail’s my back-up, and Ace is good with the locks.”
“And Ace is driving that truck?” she said again, making sure.
“It’s my truck. He can drive it wherever I say.”
“I know that. Stop treating me like I’m getting in your way. I want to help.” She took a moment, gathering her thoughts. “Okay, I’m coming, then.”
“What?”
“You were going to what, use you and Ace to drop the bike into the truck and ride off, right?”
Ram was quiet, clearly annoyed that she had seen straight through him.
Better get used to that!
“I can drive the truck instead, and you four can ride the bikes back. If someone chases you, you can split up, shake them off. You can trust me.”
Digging through his vest for the keys, she grabbed them quick, kissed him hard on the lips, and hopped in the truck. She banged on the door, Ram still standing there stunned.
She couldn’t even explain why she was doing this. It just felt right—it felt like it was time. She’d been flirting with the wild side long eno
ugh, and every part of it she found, she liked.
It didn’t matter to her the risks. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t her world, or that this was all supposed to be a big pretend game between her and Ram, fooling the rest of their societies. She wanted to dive in with him. If she was going to be his old lady, he’d have one he could brag about.
“Let’s go. Your lovely bride isn’t getting any younger.”
Through the truck window, he took her by the arm. “This is illegal, June. It’s dangerous.”
“Only if we get caught.” Her tongue flirted out toward her lips. “Are you going to get caught?”
“Not if I can help it. But—”
“Then let’s go.” She banged the truck door again. “Before I lose my nerve.”
He shook his head, climbing on top of his bike. “Wild girl. You’re full of surprises.”
Chapter 32
June might have been all confidence, but Ram had serious doubts. In his life, these sorts of jobs rarely went as smoothly as they were supposed to. Shots were fired, people were hit, injuries sustained, lives lost. Even a good, smooth job still carried out the risk of being seen by a camera or someone holding one.
It was dangerous—and while he liked this wild streak in her, a whole hell of a lot, actually, he still was worried for her.
The Black Flag’s bar was right next to the border, a good ten miles south of Marlowe. There was not a lot of traffic in it. Occasionally home-bound college kids who ran across the border for a day to check out “real life Mexico” would stop in (usually involving a lot of Mexican weed and booze), and then quickly shuffle out once they saw the kill-gazes of the rough-and-tough brawlers inside, almost all of them Hispanic.
The five of them pulled up about fifty feet up the road from the bar, far enough away for their bikes not to be heard over the din of the bar itself.
The prospect pulled out a pair of binoculars and frowned after a moment.
“You’re not gonna like it, Ram.”
He handed the binoculars over and Ram took a look. “Shit.”
They all took turns with the view, June included.
The bar was tamped down tight, with four armed men in front of it. Ram figured they could take two down without anyone noticing if luck was with them. But four was way too many. There were too many variables to work around, too many ways to get shot.
“Guarded like hell. They’ll see us coming a mile away.”
“Maybe we pretend we’re drunk?” suggested Mikhail. “That’s worked before.”
“That’s why it won’t work now,” said Ram. “I think they’ll shoot us on sight. Nobody leaked nothing?”
“Come on, Ram,” said Ace. “The three of us?”
Ram didn’t think for a moment his boys would tell the Black Flags a word. If those assholes asked Ace what his hair color was, he’d tell them yellow and then kick them in the balls. If they tried to talk to Mikhail on the street, they’d be starting a ten-day battle royale. But that wasn’t the only kind of leak there was.
“I’m serious. You guys didn’t tell anybody? Not any broads, nothing?”
“Nobody,” said Nate.
Ace and Mikhail both shook their heads. Of course, Ram believed them.
“Maybe they’re just jumpy,” said Ram.
“That would make sense,” said Mikhail. “They know we gotta hit them back for that shit yesterday with Ace’s bike. I’d be double-guarded too if it were me.”
“What if I helped?” June suggested, stepping in the middle of the. “They don’t know me.”
“What would you do?”
She got that wild look in her face again, not waiting to explain. “Watch.”
From Mikhail’s saddlebag she pulled out a thick bottle of rum and took a long, deep chug from it. Some of it spilled down across her shirt, covering her in the sweet, burning scent. Ram didn’t know what the hell she was on about.
“June,” he said, hoping for some clarity, “maybe you ought to—”
But she got back in the truck and drove down to the bar before he could say anything else.
Mikhail just laughed. “You got yourself an animal on your hands, Ram.”
“Goddammit,” said Ram. “Let’s move. We can’t let her be down there on her own. Nate, stay here and give us a signal if anyone comes.”
The prospect nodded. He was a good kid. He’d earned his way in with Ram when he’d spent a night in jail with Buckeye Billy. Apparently Nate didn’t like a cop who was hiding behind a billboard on the highway and giving out speeding tickets. So, he snuck up behind the cop’s car one night, wrapped a chain around his bumper, and then roared past him on his bike.
The cops, of course, didn’t think it was hilarious. But Ram definitely did.
Ram, Ace, and Mikhail were on their way, running through the brush and desert off the highway at a wide angle to the bar. They clambered over rocks and cacti, through thick brambles and branches, and snuck up to the side of the building. Heavy music vibrated from within. They could see the guards the whole time, tall shadows loaded with death crawling across the surface of the land. When they came close enough, Ace slipped around the back, readying himself on the other side of the front of the bar from where Ram was.
They approached through the darkness just as June staggered out of the truck, exaggerating her drunken stance and shouting for assistance.
“Where’s Jerry?” she cried out.
Ram put a hand to his face. “Christ.”
Mikhail laughed again. “The hell is she doing?”
“I don’t know,” said Ram. “Just watch.”
June continued to stagger forward, waving her hands wildly. She looked like she’d had seventeen drinks instead of seven seconds of one.
“Who the fuck is Jerry?” asked one guard.
“Fucked if I know,” said another. “Hey lady, you gotta get out of here. There’s no—”
“Jerry’s inside,” crooned June, pushing forward to the door. “You gotta let me see him. He promised me he’d take care of the baby. He promised. I wanna talk to Jerry.”
Now Ram had trouble not snickering at the ridiculous tone she was taking with these stone cold killers. She sounded like a sorority girl reject with too much booze in her veins. It wasn’t a bad play. Nothing anyone would take seriously, but enough to get everyone seriously annoyed.
He watched as two guards followed her into the bar, June still shouting and shoving, holding her face high, calling out for “Jerry.”
The other two guards followed just outside the front door, exchanging a look of bemused disbelief. This was enough of an opening. Ram slid up behind the one closest to him, taking him down in a quick sleeper hold. Ace, on the other side, did the same. They dragged the unconscious bodies into the shadows and quickly got to work.
Ace right away found Beretta’s bike. Other than painting on a Black Flag insignia on the gas tank, it was still the same old chopped evolution model that it had been for as long as Ram knew him. It would only take him a bit to hot wire it.
Meanwhile, Mikhail produced a long chain. They took to wrapping it around the other bikes present—sliding it through handlebars, spokes of wheels, and forks—and then locking it to the bar itself with a padlock that even they didn’t have the key to.
“Get off me!”
The cry came from inside—and it was June. Ram’s blood began to boil almost immediately. If she was in trouble, he couldn’t leave her in there. He slid up next to the door—not sure if it was still part of her act or not.
“Don’t you fucking touch me,” she said again. “Get your hand off my ass!”
Her cries became less pronounced, and more clear of full, urgent worry.
Now Ram was raging.
Mikhail kicked Beretta’s bike over, hot crackling boom sounds filling the air. As he did, Ram busted through the door with Mikhail directly behind him. The interior was your standard bar—neon signs and beer posters covered the walls. A cash machine in one corner. A jukebox i
n another. Mostly Hispanic bikers, all of them wearing Black Flag patches, gathered up into six or seven different groups.
He saw June cornered at the bar, three Black Flags trying to grope her and leave her with no place to go.
His vision went red. He picked up the nearest chair and hurled it at one of their heads. It landed with a satisfying crunch, the Flag hitting the floor with blood spilling from his skull. June kneed the nearest one in the balls and ran to Ram, ducking as he punched another Flag in the jaw and then kicked one hard in the stomach.
Mikhail, at his back, performed similarly. He had taken one of the armed guards by the neck, holding him close and ejecting the clip of his weapon. With a roar, he used his hostage to headbutt the other armed guard, creating a heavy pile as the two crashed through a table.
And Beretta was there.
Of course, Beretta was there. He saw Ram; Ram saw him—and for a moment, time stopped flowing.
What was this? Round three? Round seven? Did it matter anymore?
Beretta made a beeline for Ram. They crashed together, skulls cracking, fists pumping into each other’s backs, and instantly began to grapple in a whirlwind about the bar, tearing through chairs and tables and glass.
Ram broke a bottle over Beretta’s head and Beretta followed that up by slamming the back of a chair high up into Ram’s gut. This swept the wind from his body, and Ram doubled over, leaving himself vulnerable. Beretta grabbed him by the throat and landed hard strikes up into his belly and ribs. If Ram hadn’t been as big or as dense as he was, probably those blows would have cracked his ribs. As it was, he’d have a tough time breathing for the next few days.
With a roar, Beretta threw him through the front door—and then he grabbed Mikhail and did the same.
“Somebody grab me a fucking gun!” Beretta shouted.
It was time to go. There were too many of them. Even though Ram loved a good fight, tonight was about getting a bike, and nothing else. Ace was already gone, following orders like a good military man. Once he’d hot-wired the bike, he took off back to home base.
Throwing Ram and Mikhail out of the bar put them right next to the truck—which June had already gotten inside of and started up. She screamed for him to get inside, and he did, hopping into the bed and pulling Mikhail up with him. June’s voice echoed through the night. She was screaming—but she was screaming out like a warrior, like a Valkyrie, whoops of triumph and victory.
