Ignite (The Disciples Book 4)

by Cassandra Robbins

  Trying not to lose my temper, I breathe deeply. “Look, this is all your fault. I was doing my job. You know, trying to make some mon—”

  “I asked you for your age. You skirt around all personal questions. It’s boring.” He turns toward me.

  Jesus.

  The look in his eyes makes me falter, but I can’t. If he thinks he’s gotten the best of me, then I’ll be out the door.

  “Wait a minute. You dragged me off the stage. I demand that you compensate me. I could have made… a thousand dollars tonight.”

  I kind of faltered on the last part, but the first part sounded strong. Axel is in the wrong, not me. I shouldn’t even feel bad about stabbing his shin with my heel. Who does what he did? He’s not a caveman. He can’t drag me offstage like that.

  “It’s my place. I can do whatever I want.”

  My eyes jerk to his, and for one horrifying moment I wonder if I said my thoughts out loud. I didn’t, right?

  Jeez, in a way maybe it would be better if I had rather than Axel being able to read my mind. I’m playing with fire and that damn smirk of his might be my downfall. He looks down at the glasses and over at me. He motions for me to follow.

  “Sit,” he demands, placing the glasses on the desk and cracking the seal on the bottle.

  He looks at me and shakes his head. “Fine, we can stand.” Before I can say no, there’s a glass with brown liquor in it in my hand.

  “I don’t drink, and—”

  “Shh.” His voice is so gravelly and rather addictive that I gaze up at him. He’s tall, so

  tall and hot, but it’s more than that with him. This guy makes me feel. He’s so close that our fingers almost touch.

  “I need… to…” Staring at his mouth, I wonder what his lips would feel like.

  “Drink, baby.” He raises his glass and like a lunatic, all I can do is stare. His hands are large and tan, covered with tattoos. Slowly he brings the glass to his lips and shoots it all.

  I need to move away. Instead, I think I’ve leaned in closer. I can smell him. Smell the spicy liquor on his warm breath, his clean freshness, which I suspect might be the way he always smells.

  “I can’t breathe—”

  His eyes are like blue fire as he watches me. He’s silent, but his eyes are not. They caress my face, lingering on my lips almost as if they want to kiss me also.

  “Antoinette.” His voice is possessive and deep.

  “Yeah?” Mine sounds breathy, but in my defense I can barely breathe. He’s too close. I’m too close…

  “I’m not someone you should look at like that. Unless you’re ready for me to rip those strings off your body and fuck you on the desk,” he grunts as his fingers in one quick jerk free my breasts.

  Before I can stop him, he’s lifted me. “Wrap your legs around me, Cookie.”

  His mouth… I was wondering how it would feel… is kissing me. His lips are soft, but he’s not. The glass I was holding drops to the ground. If it breaks, I can’t hear it.

  “Open your mouth,” he demands, and I obey, willing. I want this. I want this more than I’ve wanted anything.

  He sits me on the edge of the desk. Then his hand is on my neck, holding me so that he can lower his head and change me forever.

  Ruin me.

  I don’t think I can breathe as he kisses me so deep, so demanding that my one hand reaches for his forearm to steady me. He shoves his tongue inside my mouth, and I moan. There are kisses and then there are life-altering moments. This kiss feels as though it will change my life forever.

  I wrap my other hand around the side of the desk, allowing me to lean forward and arch upward. My tongue finds his as we both suck, twist, and suck some more.

  His hand tightens on my neck directing me even closer as he fucks my mouth with his tongue. His rough stubble makes my chin ache, and I moan. The pain feels like I have a sunburn. I’m sure it’ll be raw, but if he stops, I might die.

  “That’s it, Cookie.” His voice is low, gravelly. It should set off a red flag. He’s not fucking around. Before I can say anything, like the truth, his hands scatter everything on the floor. Then he reaches for my breast. “Yeah, look at these fucking hard nipples.” His thumb is rough as he rubs the right one and I know I need to speak, but the thing is, I can’t. He’s robbed me of everything but him.

  He’s primal. Exciting. Deadly.

  “I’m going to fuck you, Cookie, so hard that you can’t walk straight, then suck on your clit until you beg me to let you come. And if your cunt pleases me, I’ll reward you.” His voice makes my core clench.

  I’m so wet. Would it be bad if I let him do only that?

  Holy fuck.

  His hand leaves my breast and works its way to my neck, gently pushing me down on the cool wood as my legs dangle. I need to stop acting like I’m mute and speak up.

  He straightens and looks at me. My brain is almost sluggish, like it wants to malfunction, so I don’t have to stop this.

  He wants me.

  And I love that.

  I need it.

  Because the truth is no one’s ever kissed me like that. Or looked at me the way he’s looking at me right now. He makes me feel like something special.

  “This is how I want you. So fucking beautiful.” His eyes narrow on my small breasts.

  What am I doing? Like a bucket of cold water has been thrown in my face, I bolt up.

  “Wait, Axel you need to stop.”

  He frowns. He’s so gorgeous, but right now those lips that were kissing me seconds ago are sneering in a way that makes a shiver go up my spine.

  “You want me to stop?” He doesn’t sound happy. In fact, if I wasn’t in shock at all that’s happening, I would probably run.

  “Yes. I do… I need to be married. I’m religious.”

  Oh my God. I’m mortified.

  He’s silent again, so I make it worse by adding, “Very religious.”

  Clearly I’m crazy. Only a crazy person would do what I’m doing. I need to save myself. Tell the truth that I’m nineteen, socially inept, and still a virgin. Oh God, maybe being religious does sound better?

  He pulls off his vest and my legs squirm on the wood as he takes off his T-shirt and hands it to me.

  Tattoos cover his body, and there’s a huge Disciples MC with wings on his chest, leaving my eyes to feast on his eight-pack.

  “Put the shirt on, Antoinette.” He reaches for his pack of cigarettes behind me. My voice stutters as I try to say, “Okay.” Instead I clutch his shirt to my breasts.

  I’m prepared to open my mouth and tell the truth when both of his muscled arms have me caged in on both sides. His mouth is right next to mine and if he kisses me, I’ll be quiet and let him do anything he wants.

  Instead he says, “You’re fired.”

  AXEL

  To say this has been a fucked week would be an understatement. Walking into the clubhouse, all I want is to take a shower—a cold shower—and get high and play my guitar. Maybe have a club bunny blow me and play my guitar some more.

  Ryder sticks his head out from the conference room. “Prez needs to talk to you.”

  “Someone dead?”

  “No.”

  “Then I’m taking a shower.” I breeze past him up the stairs.

  “How much longer until you’re off your period?” he yells up to me. I ignore him because I don’t give a shit.

  So, I’ve been a dick this last week. I’ve had a lot of shit to deal with. Starting with plumbing issues at the Pussycat. Then, Derrick deciding he’s feeling good enough to micromanage from his phone and constantly FaceTiming me.

  Let’s not forget Crystal. At least she’s consistent.

  A bitch.

  She walks around all day acting like I’m the devil since I fired her “favorite girl.” Fucking joke. She doesn’t even know Antoinette.

  A quick flash of something that might be regret flows through me. I push it aside as I bang my door open. The cool air from the air condit
ioner hits me like a welcome friend, along with the fresh clean smell of bleach.

  I don’t regret firing her because I don’t have regrets. It’s more like an adrenaline rush that I get when I think about her. I guess that’s what’s been hanging over my head the past week and it’s made me impatient.

  I’m pissed that I’m still thinking about her. It’s not like I’ll ever see her again. But every time I close my eyes, I do see her. Fuck, even her smell haunts me.

  I need a shower, and food. Guess tonight’s the night I sample Rip’s new weed. He’s been asking me to test it. Fuck, I hope it gets me happy and high.

  But first, I need to get Blade and Ryder up to date.

  I toss my dirty shoes in the corner and strip out of the dusty clothes. I was on the road for a solid five hours today, having to deal with one of my grow houses. I have many—they’re spread out all over Southern California. This particular one was robbed. Someone fucking robbed me. It’s starting to feel personal. Yet, the person I’m suspecting should be targeting Blade, not me.

  Unless he doesn’t know that Blade and the Disciples have nothing to do with my weed. It doesn’t matter. He’s a dead man. Should’ve been a dead man years ago…

  I turn on the shower and try to clear my head as I step in and let the cool water wash away the dirt and grime of the road. My mind goes over all that I need to do.

  Lifting my head, I let the water hit my face while I prepare to tell Blade that I’m 90 percent sure his brother-in-law is behind all this. Eve likes to say Benny means nothing to her, but her actions speak for themselves.

  Flipping off the water, I hesitate as I lay my head on the cool tile. “Fuck it,” I mumble, giving in. I’m so tired of pretending that I didn’t want this girl.

  I’m not a liar.

  I wanted her.

  I wanted to fuck her more than I have wanted to fuck any woman, mark her in the most primal way. Rolling my forehead to the side, I reach for my cock. It’s throbbing and ready for my hand.

  “Yeah.” I see her.

  Her blond hair spills around her face as my hands wrap around the base and I jerk myself off to that vision.

  She groans and whispers, Mitchell. It should be something that I correct, but I like it coming out of her plump lips. With her head thrown back, her body lying across my desk… it’s as if she’s offering herself to me.

  “Fuck,” I grunt, jerking myself hard and rough, almost painfully chasing the pleasure. While I rub my balls with my right hand, I continue stroking my cock with the other. My groans echo around the black-tiled walls and my stomach muscles tighten. As my leg muscles lock up, I lean back and open my eyes to watch while I explode.

  “Jesus,” I hiss, my body jerking out hot milky strands that splatter on my toes and cover the shower wall. I let my breath steady before I turn on the water to clean myself up.

  Stepping out of the shower, I feel slightly better. But I need to remind Rip about a couple of things, starting with the weed, so I pick up my phone and fire off a text.

  Me: Before you leave, make sure you grab me a bag of the D blend and whatever else you want me to try. I’m gonna tell Blade and Ryder what’s going on and get high, play my guitar, and sleep.

  Three dots appear, then stop, then start again. I set down my phone to get dressed. Rip is the slowest texter I have ever met. Most of the time, I call him, but I’m not in the mood.

  While I’m slipping on a black tee, my phone dings at last with Rip’s text. I reach for my smokes and head toward the conference room before I check.

  RIP: Leaving now. I’ll grab you some D, but definitely go with my new blend. If you have a bunny with you, even better. I’m putting it in a separate bag. You want me to stop by Pussycat also?

  Me: yeah.

  Leave it to Rip to be so laid back about getting robbed. He’s more excited about his latest blend of weed than having spent the entire day transporting one grow house to the other.

  Rip’s good for me to be around. I can get all dark and shit, but he just gets high and rolls with it. He shows up when I need him. He’s loyal and he doesn’t hesitate.

  I swing the conference room door open to laughter. Blade and Ryder have their feet on the old wooden table, a big batch of Amy’s famous guacamole and chips along with a bottle of Cazadores tequila in the middle. For a moment, I’m jealous.

  “You couldn’t wait?” I fling myself into my chair. My phone vibrates. Frowning at the unknown number, I decline it, but I don’t like it.

  To be honest, I’m not liking much lately. Fucking Edge, he has to be coming back soon. I reach for a chip when my phone lights and vibrates with the Pussycat’s number.

  “Christ.” I scoop up a large amount of guacamole on another chip and grit out, “What?” Loud music permeates my ear.

  “Axel, thank God,” Crystal screams into the phone.

  I roll my eyes and grab another chip. “I’m not coming in tonight—”

  “Axel?” She screams so loud that both Blade and Ryder look at me and pour me a shot.

  “Jesus Christ, Crystal. I’m not co—”

  “It’s loud in here and I can barely hear you,” she yells. I almost tell her to go to the office where there’s no music, but whatever.

  “So, the police called about Candy. I’m texting you her address. The cop asked for you.” I move the phone to my other ear and sit up.

  “What the fuck, Crystal? What police?”

  “Apparently your girlfriend has a weapon… or something about a bat. I couldn’t hear it all, but they want you to go get her. Oh, and be nice. Clearly she has no one. I texted you her address.”

  The line goes dead. I look up at Blade who’s frowning.

  “What now?” he says.

  “God damn it.” I grab the shot and down it as my phone dings and lights up with Crystal’s text.

  Antoinette Van Doran

  1428 N. Fountain Ave. Apt. 6D

  Hollywood CA 90038

  I push on the unknown number as I look at the ceiling.

  “Officer Ortega here.”

  “This is Axel Fontaine. You called me a few minutes ago?”

  Ryder’s boots drop to the floor.

  “Yes, I did try calling a few minutes ago. This is about an Antoinette Van Doran? Do you know her?”

  “I do.”

  “Well, she’s in a bit of trouble and she gave your name to contact.”

  “What’s happened?” My heart is pounding so hard I feel it in my temples, but I try to ignore it.

  “She’s threatening a family with a bat,” he states flatly.

  “I’m sorry, what?” I hiss, glancing at Ryder and Blade.

  “I don’t think she’s really a threat, which is why I’m calling. But she needs some help.”

  I motion for Ryder to write. “Can you tell me what’s happened, Officer Ortega?”

  Ryder instantly starts typing on his laptop.

  “From what I can tell, she’s squatting, and the new tenants are upset. They have a baby and want her out. She says it’s all a mistake. That a roommate took the rent money. But she did say she would protect herself.”

  “Are you planning to arrest her?”

  Ryder flips the computer to face me. It shows a picture of Officer Ortega’s face with all his information.

  I scan quickly. He’s been on the force eleven years. Not part of our division that takes bribes. He’s Hollywood, which, of course, is Edge’s turf.

  “I’m on my way.”

  “You’re her employer? A boyfriend?” I can tell he’s running my name through his own system.

  I look over at Blade who stares, looking almost puzzled.

  “I am,” I bark into the phone. The way Blade and Ryder are staring at me is making me uncomfortable.

  “Look. Honestly, I’m not getting the feeling it’s her fault, but I can’t have her threatening people.” He talks in clipped tones.

  “I’ll be there in less than twenty minutes.” I hang up and turn to both my
brothers.

  “I need to handle something. Call Rip to fill you in on the last couple of days.” Before either of them can say anything, I’m out the door. I’m already aggravated that I haven’t been able to put this woman out of my mind since she Flashdanced her way into my life, so I don’t need any more shit.

  I hate drama, and so far she’s been nothing but. So why the fuck am I grabbing my wallet and keys?

  No wonder Blade is looking at me like I’m insane. Then again, it’s more like pity, which is worse.

  I walk straight to my silver Harley, but something makes me hesitate. And before I can even try to reason with myself, I’m sitting inside my GTO.

  “Fuck it.” I start her up and she rumbles to life, causing my cock to get hard. I bought Luscious in high school and have pretty much rebuilt her with stock parts.

  She’s my baby.

  I don’t let anyone drive her and not many get to ride in her. In fact, I don’t think a woman has ever sat in the passenger seat. I’ve fucked plenty in the back and driver’s seat, but not one woman has yet to sit next to me. So, why I’m taking her pisses me off. It’s not like I’ll let Cookie sit there.

  I should have told Crystal to handle it or texted Rip. Instead, I’m gunning it down our long gravel driveway listening to Stevie Ray Vaughan. My sound system is the only thing custom. Vaughan was a guitar master, a musical genius. Music calms me, centers me. My hands tighten on the leather steering wheel as I turn it up louder, letting the magic of Vaughan’s guitar try to distract me.

  I should turn back.

  I don’t. My foot stays on the accelerator as I take the Cahuenga Pass all the way to Hollywood.

  AXEL

  It must be my lucky day because I get rock star parking. Either that or the universe has decided to fuck with me since it’s a twenty-four seven bitch to find parking in Hollywood. Yet tonight, I somehow slide right in as someone pulls out.

  Two cop cars are parked in the middle of the street. A bit excessive, but whatever. A baby cries while people yell.

  A large moving truck is double-parked with the rolling door open. Some blankets and a dolly lie on the curb, but there’s not a mover in sight. It’s gorgeous out, so they have that going for them. I look down at my phone to see her apartment number, ignoring the three missed calls from Rip.