by Lowe, Aden
She raised a delicate shoulder and let her hair fall forward. "Th-there's not much to tell."
Frowning, he reached to brush her hair back so he could see her face, but she flinched away before he could touch her. "Hey, it's okay." Damn, she must have seen some of the worst the world had to offer. Shame for such a pretty girl to be so scared.
Rather than reply, she sat silent, her thin frame quaking with tremors so hard the bed shook.
"Fuck." The anger in his voice prompted another flinch. Shit, better rephrase that. "Look, Tanya, you don't have to do anything with me you don't want to. If you'd rather go back to your own room, go ahead." As much as he'd like to fuck her, he wouldn't force her.
"I c-can't."
"Can't?"
"G-go back to my room. D-don't have one. A-a-and he would kill me." She blinked and Trip felt certain if she hadn't, tears would have started to fall.
"Then you'll stay here and just rest." He stood. "I'm going out to grab my stuff. I'll be back in a minute. Don't worry. No one will hurt you while I'm here." Fuck, he couldn't just ignore her, could he?
Chapter Two
Out in the main room, Freak, who seemed to be calling the shots in the absence of the Saxons Prez, still sat at the bar nursing a beer. Trip steered wide on his way through to the door but refused to go out of his way to avoid the fucker. He hated to have to talk his way out of a fight, and in different circumstances, he would have already kicked the guy's ass. Too much rode on this meet, though, so he sucked it up.
"You done with our little bitch, already?" Freak smirked. "I guess all the tales I've heard about Hell Raiders having some stamina were exaggerated." Talking smack about another club could go either way. He kept a grin on his face, as if he intended it as a joke, but Trip figured he wanted to start trouble.
Well, he wasn't going to get it. The man had his own agenda, and Trip needed to remember that and not play into it. He turned, careful to keep his hands loose at his sides. "Nah, haven't even started on her yet. Figured I better get my shit. I'm a little obsessive about some things and I want to be sure and double wrap." He continued on for the door and tried to ignore the uneasiness roiling in his gut.
"The fuck, man? You tryna say we don't run clean bitches?" Another Saxon left the bar and took a couple of steps in Trip's direction.
Careful. Couldn't forget he stood in the middle of a clubhouse full of hostiles. "Nah, man, course not. Like I said, I'm a little obsessive. She seems real sweet."
Placated, the Saxon returned to his seat and his beer.
Glad to have averted trouble, and more importantly, ruining the meet before he could put the proposal to the Saxons Prez, Trip grabbed his belongings, and went back to the room. Tanya still sat there, exactly as he'd left her, and Trip did his best to ignore her, even if he wanted nothing more than to shove her back on that bed and get lost in that sweet body. But maybe if she didn't feel him wanting her, she would relax a little and not shake the room to pieces with her trembling. So he forced himself not to react to the sight of her beautiful tits and took his stuff to the other side of the bed.
A little dresser on the far side of the room seemed like an okay place to put his bag. It held nothing of real value, but he preferred to hang onto his underwear. Keeping it out in the open like that, no one should have reason to ransack for valuables. He kicked his boots off and put them at the side of the bed, where he could step straight into them if he needed to.
He shrugged out of his cut and folded it over the dresser. Some movement or sound from Tanya drew his attention, but she appeared exactly the same. It suddenly occurred to him she might like to cover up a bit. Sitting on a bed naked in a room with a man she didn't know couldn't be very comfortable.
He dug out a t-shirt and tossed it to the bed at her side. "You can wear that if you want. Up to you."
Those brilliant eyes widened at him again. Good. He'd turned her expectations upside down. Couldn't ask to do more than that.
Despite wanting to see more of her, he turned away, and went back to settling in. The door to the room seemed fairly solid but the knob wouldn't keep a flea out. His old Buck knife took care of that. He jammed the blade hard between the door and the frame at a comfortable height for him to grab and remove it. With the blade in place like that, the door wouldn't budge. Anyone wanting in would have to bust the door or the frame.
Satisfied with the security measure, Trip shed the rest of his clothes and rolled into the bed. Normally he slept naked, but, for the moment at least, he kept his underwear on. The possibility of needing to run out the room in response to some Saxons bullshit acted as a good reason to keep something on.
Before he settled completely, he took the time to note Tanya wore the shirt he'd given her. "If you don't mind, turn the light off. Been a long day." He refused to consider what the sight of her wearing his shirt did to him.
Wide startled gaze again. He was starting to really enjoy that expression on her delicate features. "Wh-what do you want me to do?"
"Nothin', sugar. Just turn the light out and lay down and get some rest if you want. Or sit on the edge of the bed all night. Doesn't matter to me. I'm beat."
She made a soft little sound, but turned the light off. After a few minutes, the bed shifted as she lay down, settling carefully on the edge as far from Trip as she could get.
Trip ignored her and closed his eyes. He wasn't the type to refuse a free lay, but that poor girl, she wasn't like the girls who hung around the Hell Raiders. They were up for anything and liked it. That one had been handled badly and would probably cry if he so much as touched her. He wasn't into that shit. Still, having her there in the narrow bed next to him make his cock strain with need.
At some point during the night, a soft noise woke him and Trip lay still and alert, listening for a repeat. Finally it came and he stifled a groan at the unmistakable sounds of a woman crying. Emotional females brought fucking complications, usually major ones. But fuck if he could lie there and let her cry without trying to help, at least.
"You okay?" He kept his voice soft, trying not to frighten her again.
The bed shifted a little. "I'm sorry, didn't mean to wake you."
He carefully turned to face her. "It's okay. I'm a light sleeper. Anything I can do to help?"
She made a derisive noise. "No, pretty sure you can't."
Trip noted her stutter seemed to have resolved. Maybe that was a fear response? Whatever, he liked the musical notes of her voice. "I can listen, at least."
She sighed a little. "Do you even know why I'm here?"
Surprised, he frowned. "No. I never thought about it."
"Well, it's not because I want to be a whore."
When she put it that way, he expected not many little girls considered that a dream life. Most of the whores he knew sort of stumbled into it, one way or another. The girls who hung around the Hell Raiders house mostly liked to party and had nothing better to do—no jobs, families, or real hope of anything different. "You have a point. So why are you here?" The dim glow of the alarm clock provided enough light for him to see her face, but not read her expression.
She stayed silent for so long he thought she decided not to answer. "Let's just say I don't have a choice and leave it at that." The sheet rustled a little as she turned away from him. "I'm sorry I woke you. Goodnight, Trip."
Shit. He slid closer and let his arms go around her to gather her close. She started to pull away for an instant, then froze and stiffened as her training took over.
Holding her close, he told her goodnight, determined to wait out her fear. He relaxed is body and kept his breathing even, but sleep evaded him for a long while. What made a woman say she had no choice in who she partied with? If Tanya were actually a working girl, as she'd implied, then her pimp... The thought trailed off as the words of the Saxon came to mind. Something about running clean bitches. Combined with the way the women were all dressed, or undressed, the same, and stood quietly for inspection made him pretty sur
e he'd hit on the answer.
It didn't surprise him. Lots of MCs were in the pussy business. The Hell Raiders avoided it because Kellen preferred their dollars be earned in simpler ways and the rest of the table agreed. Nothing seemed messier than a stable full of women and all their issues, and the johns thrown in to boot. The Raiders agreed a truck load of guns or stolen electronics held more appeal and more profit, hands down. And if those businesses failed, they could always increase the protection work. Hell, several of the Tennessee charter had full time gigs as bodyguards and security staff.
Trip continued to pursue the same line of questions until long after Tanya's breathing evened out and she slept, but the biggest one remained unanswered. Even if she found herself with no choice but to become a whore, why the Saxons? They didn't strike Trip as the sort to provide many benefits to an employee.
Sleep finally returned as he recited a little mantra to remind himself the whole damn thing was none of his business. Tomorrow he would negotiate passage through Saxons territory for the Hell Raiders' protection run, and have no further interaction with them. Questions like the ones trying to find space in his head had this nasty little habit of getting the asker shot. He had no time for that shit. No time for a sexy little chick who appealed to every protective instinct in him, either.
Low voices nearby woke Trip again. The clock on the nightstand showed just after seven a.m. He stayed silent, listening, wary of things at play he had no part in.
"…tried. They're both locked in. No way to get the doors open."
Fully alert, Trip tried to catch more of the conversation.
"Go over their bikes then. I know Buffalo was expecting them, but I'm not taking chances. I don't like how that one turned down the girls. Old lady or not…"
Evidently the men moved on, since the words trailed off.
Huh. He sat up, considering the possibilities, and grabbed his phone to text Stella. The Hell Raiders had long-standing protocol for such situations. With the phone on silent, he keyed in 1-8-0-0 and pressed send. The military equivalent of six p.m. would warn Stella to watch his six o'clock, or his back.
The smokes he bought at the gas stop lay out of easy reach on the dresser, but he stretched for them and lit up, grabbing the butt can he'd spotted earlier on the floor by the bed. A beer would go really good, but the chances of alerting the Saxons to his suspicions were too great. Better they thought he and Stella stayed ignorant.
The phone vibrated to signal a reply from Stella. '411.' His brother had received the message loud and clear, and had more information. Despite the surly attitude and reluctance to speak, Stella rivaled Kellen and Crank in intelligence. Not much got past him.
Half an hour went by, and Trip tired of waiting. Careful not to wake Tanya, he dressed, made a last check to ensure he left no information or valuables with his belongings on the dresser, and left the room. If the Saxons wanted a chance to check him out, he'd give it to them. Only he would control what they found.
Out in the main room, one Saxon watched local news on a big-screen TV and another chatted quietly with the bar girl. Trip signaled for a beer and when he accepted the glass, the girl, a different one from before, offered a friendly smile. Caution made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. Striving for casual, he pulled up a stool and sat.
The Saxon the girl had been talking with left, heading back the way Trip had come. Interesting. No doubt his room was already being tossed. Annoyance flashed over him. He had better things to do than go through his own shit to make sure no electronic bugs hitched a ride.
"Mornin', handsome." The deep Southern drawl reminded him of home and sounded entirely out of place.
He grinned and took a sip of his beer. "Hello, sweetheart. What's a nice girl like you doing up at this ungodly hour?"
She threw her head back and laughed. "Well, if it's such an ungodly hour, what does that say about you?"
"I never made any claims about being nice." With only part of his mind on flirting shamelessly, and perfectly aware he was being purposely delayed, Trip focused on figuring out why the hell the one bastard thought he and Stella had something to hide.
After only a few sips of his beer, he made a show of checking the time and excusing himself. Outside, he saw no signs of anyone around his and Stella's bikes, but the crumbling pavement would hide a lot of things. Wary as hell, he looked his bike over carefully. Nothing seemed out of place, but that meant absolutely nothing.
No matter. He'd better alert Kellen something smelled rotten about the Saxons. The Hell Raiders Prez might have something Trip should watch for.
Very aware someone else heard every word, he filled Kellen in, and answered a few questions carefully in coded words.
"A'ight, man, stay in touch and keep it tight. I'll let the others know Buffalo was held up so we might have to delay a little." Kellen ended the call, leaving Trip with no better ideas.
He figured the time had come to drag Stella's ass out. They should be able to leave for food and smokes without arousing too much suspicion. He hoped.
Chapter Three
Buffalo's name suited him perfectly, in Trip's opinion. The Saxons Prez easily made two normal men, and his massive arms would give any body builder pause. Fucker could probably knock a bull out with one big fist. The man seemed just about as surly as his namesake, too, with a permanent scowl etched on his face.
"So let me get this straight. I'm supposed to just let Hell Raiders pass fully armed through Saxons territory? What do we get out of it?" He held up a big hand. "And before you say it, I'm not the warm fuzzy type."
Trip grinned. "Figured you'd say that. Kellen authorized me to offer a tariff."
"How much?"
Trip spent the next hour convincing the Saxons Prez the good will and possible future alliance with the Hell Raiders held more value than a few more percentage points of the fee for the job. Finally they reached an agreement and shook on it. Trip allowed himself a mental sigh of relief. He and Stella could get the fuck out of there, at long last.
Buffalo stood and led the way back out to the main room where a couple dozen Saxons drank, played pool and watched TV. Stella remained slightly apart without obviously snubbing anyone, drinking his beer and pretending to listen to one of the girls with an occasional nod.
Trip stretched a little and cracked his neck to signal Stella the deal had been accepted. No doubt Stella was more than ready to get the hell out of the Saxons' house, too.
Two of the women from the ones offered to Trip the night before appeared at Buffalo's side and he draped his heavy arms over their shoulders. One giggled when he squeezed her tit. "Saxons, drink up. I'm in a mood to celebrate." A cheer rolled through the room as the Saxons followed orders and drained their drinks. Buffalo turned to Trip. "You like the little bitch you had last night?"
Wary of insulting the big man just when it seemed like he successfully negotiated a deal, Trip considered his reply. "Yeah, she's pretty damn sweet."
The big man grinned ear to ear. "Good." He slapped one of the girls with him on the ass. "Go find her and bring her." The girl took off like an Olympic runner and Buffalo turned back to Trip. "Broke that one in myself. She'll be good to you while we celebrate. Send you off all nice and relaxed tomorrow."
Fuck. "I'd like to, man, but we gotta head on out. Got a couple more clubs to visit before we can start back home."
The grin disappeared. Buffalo's hand tightened on the girl's tit until she cried out. No more giggling from her. "Fuck that. We made a deal in good faith. You ain't too good to party with us, are you? Besides, it's too late in the day to make any miles."
The room had gone quiet as the Saxons picked up on their president's mood.
Damn it all to hell. Trip shrugged. "Yeah, you're right. A good deal calls for celebrating." He nodded to Stella. "My boy's gotta call his ol' lady and check in. Never seen a fucker so whipped."
Thankfully, Buffalo and the other Saxons laughed, seeming to accept his backtracking. At least h
e'd cleared Stella to call Kellen and let him know what was happening. It would be up to Kellen to contact the River Rogues and the Death Knights and inform them of the delay, and more importantly, make sure the other MCs wouldn't take it as disrespect.
Stella said something and the Saxons nearest him laughed as he headed out the door to make his check in call.
The girl Buffalo sent for Tanya returned and whispered something in his ear. He nodded. "The little bitch will be out for you in a minute. You must have used her good, she's getting cleaned up." He laughed at his own humor and stuck one hand between the girl's legs. Her face showed mortal dread, making Trip's gut churn. Buffalo chugged his beer and handed it off to the other girl. "Reminds me, I've got a bitch needs using right here." In the next breath he forced the girl face down over a table, opened his pants and started fucking her.
Trip turned away, but not before he spotted the grimace of pain on the young woman's face. Shit. He fucking despised brutes like that. If he ever had the chance, he would make sure Buffalo never used his dick to hurt a woman again. After his cousin had been brutally raped by her own husband, Trip went off the deep end a little.
Not much bothered him, but that act flipped his switches. And he couldn't do a goddamn thing about it in this case. Saying a single word would sign his own death warrant, not to mention Stella's. All he could do was try not to see or hear.
Before he could think of an excuse to get the fuck out of there, Tanya touched his shoulder and tucked herself under his arm. "Thank you for asking for me. I try to stay away from him." She rolled her eyes toward Buffalo, her meaning clear.
Trip nodded. He didn't blame her in the least. "Let's get a beer, then get the fuck out of here." He led her to the bar and ordered two bottles. With his arm around Tanya keeping her close to his side, he started toward his room.
One of the Saxons made a comment about Hell Raiders territory being nice country, and he stopped. Apparently the man rode through Stags Leap once on his way to visit a sick relative. Trip filed the tidbit away for future reference. Kellen wouldn't like a member of another club passing through without at least notifying them of his presence. It showed serious disrespect, even if the man left his colors at home. It also indicated a general lack of respect for other clubs from the Saxons as a whole. Definite reason for caution in business dealings with them.
