He Doesn’t Care: A Bad Boy Secret Baby Motorcycle Club Romance (Fourstroke Fiends MC)

by Naomi West

  “You fucker!” shouted Charlie. “You miserable fucking fuck!”

  Grit’s blood pounded through his veins as he took in the sight of Charlie holding Honey hostage, tears streaming down her face. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to rush over to him and rip the bastard limb from limb. But it was clear from his erratic movements and the wild look in his eyes that Charlie was on something, and if that weren’t enough, he was likely even more desperate than he’d been before.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Grit watched as the man in the fancy suit slunk off to the side. Grit gave his men a glance to say without speaking that they’d better keep an eye on him. His men confirmed.

  “Charlie,” said Grit, his voice steady and stern. “It’s fucking over. You’ve got a pregnant woman there, and if you’ve got a damn bit of decency left in you, you’ll let her go. No need for any more bloodshed tonight.”

  “You don’t get it, you fuck!” shouted Charlie, spit sputtering out of his mouth as he did. “I’m fucked! This girl’s my last goddamn move. So, I’m gonna use her for all she’s worth. Now, you’re gonna let me go with Honey, and if I hear the fucking engine of one of those bikes while I’m driving off, then I’ll put a round right through her goddamn head.”

  Grit weighed his options. With Honey held in front of him, Charlie did have the upper hand. But Grit knew that there wasn’t a goddamn chance that he was going to let Charlie leave with Honey. She’d be as good as dead, if not worse.

  “I’m not hearing an ‘Okay, Charlie, whatever you say’,” said Charlie. “Maybe this’ll get you to cooperate.”

  Charlie lowered his gun and pressed the end of the barrel against Honey’s stomach.

  “How about one round right through here, and the next one through her head. Unless you decide to play ball, asshole.”

  Grit was on the verge of boiling over with rage, on the verge of losing what little cool he had left. But before he could make a move, Honey acted. Squirming out of his grasp, she pulled back her elbow and drove it right into Charlie’s stomach. The blow hit him square in the diaphragm, sending the air rushing out his lungs in a pained gust. Honey was then able to break free and put as much distance between herself and Charlie as possible.

  Grit wasn’t about to let this opportunity to go to waste. Raising his pistols, he pointed them squarely at Charlie and let rip. He fired shot after shot, each one slamming into Charlie and sending him jerking back and forth with the impact of the bullets. Once the pistols were drained, Charlie stood in place for a moment, a shocked expression on his face and his shirt soaked with blood and sweat. Then, he collapsed into a lifeless heap.

  It was over.

  Honey ran over to Grit and he took her into his arms.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, looking her over with frantic eyes.

  “Yes,” she said. “I’m fine.”

  Relief washed over Grit in a cool wave. But before he could make another move, he heard the light, slow clap of applause. His eyes snapped up and he saw that the noise was coming from the man in the expensive suit. Grit narrowed his eyes and prepared for one last fight.

  “That was quite a display,” said the man, looking over the remains of his men. “That was my top security detail that you just wiped out as though they were some group of hoodlums. And look at you all—not a scratch on one of you.”

  He shook his head in disbelief, a small smile on his face.

  “Emile Van Graff,” he said.

  “Let me guess,” said Grit, his arm wrapped tightly around Honey’s shoulders. “You’re the owner of Fantasies.”

  “Close,” said the man. “I’m one of the owners of that seedy little club. Or former owner, I suppose. And Fantasies was just one of our many holdings in this state.”

  “And that makes you the fucker that put those drugs out onto the streets.”

  Emile titled his head slightly, as if conceding the point.

  “I suppose that would be my doing as well, if indirectly.”

  “Then you’re going down like the rest of them,” said Grit, his eyes narrowed.

  “Now, now,” said Emile. “If you’ll hear me out, I have an offer. One that you and you men might be interested in.

  Grit decided to let him say his piece, as much as he wanted to put a round through his forehead right then and there.

  “It would appear that we have a few … job openings at the moment,” said Emile, gesturing to the bodies of the men around him. “We could use a good security outfit in this city, some muscle to enforce what needs enforcing. And I think that your Vandals would be just the men for the job. There’d be money, power, drugs, women—whatever you want. And all you’d have to do is work for us. What do you say?”

  Grit sneered, not even considering it for a moment. He glanced around at the rest of his men, and he could tell by their knowing looks that they were thinking the same thing as him.

  “No fucking way,” said Grit. “Now someone give me a gun.”

  Stone slapped a pistol in Grit’s and Grit raised it at Emile.

  “Wait, wait,” said Emile. “I’m unarmed. I have no intention of trying anything stupid, like our friend Charlie here. You shoot me, you’re shooting me in cold blood. And you’re above that, aren’t you, Grit?”

  Grit realized he was right. Executing someone like that just wasn’t his style.

  “No more killing tonight,” said Honey in a soft voice.

  Grit flicked on the safety and tucked the pistol into his waistband.

  “Get the fuck out of here,” said Grit.

  “You’ve made the right call, Grit. Till we meet again.”

  With that, Emile hurried into one of the SUVs, started the engine, and drove off. Moments later, his car disappeared over the horizon. And as it did, Grit couldn’t help but wonder for a moment if he’d made the right call.

  But he had Honey. She was safe and in his arms—that was all that mattered. He held her close, and as he did, Grit realized that he never wanted her out of his sight ever again. The horror was over.

  It was time to go home.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Honey

  Honey held onto Grit tight as they drove back to the Hotel. Tears flowed from her eyes as they rode, but they weren’t the tears of horror and fear that she’d been shedding—they were ones of relief and joy. Her man had come for her, just like she’d known he would. He’d kept her safe.

  After a time, they arrived back at the hotel room. The men took their seats around the space, and Grit stood in the middle of them. Honey was amazed at just how cool and in control Grit was, even after everything that had happened. She realized that Grit was the sort of man who was born to be a leader of men, and she felt lucky beyond words to be at his side.

  That is, she thought, if he wants me to be at his side.

  There was still the issue of what she’d done, how she’d betrayed him by holding back information that could’ve ended this whole mess before it began.

  But before she had too much time to think the matter over, Grit spoke.

  “You all did a hell of a job tonight,” said Grit. “I can’t imagine having a different gang of rough-ass motherfuckers at my side during an operation like that. You all did me proud, each and every one of you.”

  Honey watched as the men all shared pleased looks with one another. She could tell that Grit’s words went right to their cores.

  “What about the other men?” asked Razor. “Any word from them?”

  “Yep,” said Grit. “I got a word from Diesel down at the warehouse that a couple of fancy fuckin’ cars full of men were patrolling the area near them. But they broke off. I figure that once we let Emile go, they go the word to back off.”

  “Then they’re all still out there,” said Killian. “And it’s only a matter of time before they come for us. We gotta be ready.”

  Grit nodded his head.

  “I’m thinkin’ you’re right. These organized crime motherfuckers aren’t the types to take shit
like this sitting down. Once Emile gets back to them, they’re probably gonna start planning their next operation as soon as they can. But …”

  Then men all waited for him to continue.

  “… there’s still the issue of the drug lab at Fantasies. It’s buried under the rubble right now, but it won’t be for long. And once the cops start doing the work of figuring out just who owns that place, they’re gonna come on them. Hard.”

  “I say we strike now,” said Razor. “Take those fuckers out while we got ’em running scared.”

  Stone nodded.

  “They’re running now,” he said. “I say we track ’em down and finish the fucking job. Then this’ll all be over for good.”

  “We need to let the heat die down,” said Gray. “We gotta wait to see just how all of this shakes out in the next week. We make a move too soon and we might just shoot ourselves in the foot.”

  Grit said nothing, instead standing there as still as a statue as he listened to the men. Honey could tell that he respected the opinion of each and every one of them and wanted to hear them out before making a call.

  But Honey knew what she wanted—no more bloodshed. She hoped that Grit would see things her way.

  “I haven’t decided what we’re gonna do,” said Grit, his eyes moving from man to man. “But one thing’s for fuckin’ sure—I think we’ve earned a night to relax.”

  The men sounded out with their approval. And as they did, Honey watched as Stone glanced at her. His eyes moved back from her to Grit, and she could sense that he had something on his mind.

  “Yo, guys,” he said, standing up. “I think the boss has been through enough shit for tonight to want to hear us tell him what we need to be doing. Why don’t we give him and Honey some time.”

  He started off towards the door.

  “Come on, assholes,” he said with a grin. “First round’s on me!”

  The men let out a cheer as they got up. Grit went through the men one last time, shaking their hands and slapping them hard on the backs, thanking them sincerely for their hard work tonight.

  Once they were gone, a silence fell over the room. For the first time since Grit had sent Honey out in anger, they were alone. She had things she desperately wanted to say to him, but as soon as it was just the two of them, Honey felt so overcome with emotion that all she could do was sit with her arms wrapped around her body, tears trickling from her eyes.

  Grit moved onto the bed next to Honey, slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. She felt calm and safe as soon as his body was pressed against hers. Still, all she could do was cry. Grit obliged her, and Honey pressed her face into his shoulder and let the tears flow. He sat there patiently through it all, giving her all the time that she needed to let her emotions out. He knew that, at that moment, there was nothing she needed more than for him to simply be there for her, to be the rock that she needed.

  After a time, Honey felt that she’d cried all the tears she had in her.

  “Sorry,” she said. “It’s the baby or something; I’ve just been an emotional wreck.”

  “The baby, and the fact that your boss took you hostage and threatened to kill you,” said Grit. “Cut yourself some slack; you’ve been through more tonight than any woman should have to go through. And you’re still standing.”

  “How … how the hell are you so calm about this?” Honey asked. “You look like you aren’t bothered in the slightest.”

  “Because I’m the man in charge,” said Grit. “I don’t have the luxury of letting my emotions get the better of me. My men look to me for guidance, and I’ve got to be there to give it to them.”

  But then Grit looked away for a moment, and Honey could tell that there was something else on his mind.

  “But still, when that motherfucker Charlie had that gun to your head, I wanted to tear him to pieces more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life.”

  He took Honey’s hand into his and looked deep into her eyes.

  “I swear, so help me God, that I’ll never let another man do what he did to you tonight. I’m gonna be watching your back like a hawk from this day forward, whether you want it or not. I’ll always keep you safe, Honey.”

  Honey knew that his words were sincere. And she could still see that the image that she imagined was in his mind of Charlie holding her hostage was causing him to lose a bit of his composure. He looked as if the walls that he kept around him had come down, if only just a bit.

  “Honey,” he said, taking her chin into his hand and looking into her eyes once again. “I love you.”

  Honey nodded, and more tears flowed from her eyes.

  “I love you, too,” she said. “More than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

  Grit pulled Honey close and held her tight. At that moment, for Honey, there was no one else in the world but the two of them.

  However, there were still grave concerns on her mind.

  “But,” she said. “There’re men still out there. And they’re not gonna be too happy about what happened tonight.”

  Grit nodded.

  “They’re fucking done,” he said, standing up and pacing back and forth in the room. “I was fucking stupid for letting Emile go. I should’ve snapped his neck like a fucking twig and sent a nice, clear fuckin’ message to the rest of those assholes about what happens when you screw with the Vandals. Tomorrow, I’m gonna start tracking those assholes down and dismantling them, one by one, piece by piece. By the time I’m done with them, they’re gonna wish they were never fuckin’ born.”

  Honey found it so hard to believe that Grit had both of these sides to him. One moment he was expressing his love for her in a way that she knew was pure and sincere. And now he was like a dog let off a chain, ready to kill to protect the ones he loved.

  “I’m gonna keep you safe,” he said. “And it’s gonna start with killing the men who Charlie was working for. You have my word.”

  But that wasn’t what Honey wanted. Not at all. Despite knowing that Grit was speaking and acting out of a protective instinct, she didn’t want what he was offering.

  “No,” said Honey, her voice soft.

  Grit turned to her with a quizzical expression on her face, as though she’d said something in another language.

  “What did you say?” he asked.

  “I don’t want that,” she said. “I don’t want any more violence.”

  Grit narrowed his eyes.

  “Are you serious?” he asked. “These are the men who almost killed you tonight. They’re criminals, thugs, murderers. They need to be taken off the streets.”

  “Then let’s get them off the streets,” said Honey. “But I’ve seen enough bloodshed tonight to last me a lifetime. I don’t want the father of my child out there like some lawless vigilante, killing criminals left and right. I need to know that you’re going to be coming home at night, that you’re going to be the father I need for this baby.”

  She placed her hand on her belly to make her point.

  “But … this is who I am,” said Grit. “This is the life that I lead. I’m the president of a fuckin’ bike gang.”

  “And now you’re going to need to be a father,” said Honey, her voice stern and calm. “You said yourself that there’s enough evidence to link the bosses to Fantasies. Once the cops find the drug lab, they’ll have all they need to put those men behind bars where they belong. What I need is to know that you’re going to be the man that I need you to be. A real man, not some kid prowling the streets looking for a fight.”

  Grit nodded, understanding just what Honey was asking of him.

  “You’re right,” he said. “If I’m gonna be running this club, I can’t be risking my neck looking for a fight. Especially with a kid on the way. All right, Honey—I’ll keep the dogs at bay for now. But if those fuckers go out of their way to threaten you and our baby, then I’m gonna do whatever it takes to keep you safe. No questions asked.”

  ***

  Honey’s heart warmed
at Grit’s words. And looking at him standing before her, tall and strong, a look of deep determination on his face, she knew that she could trust him to do the right thing. She rose from where she sat and placed her hands on his shoulders and looked up into his eyes.

  “I … promise I won’t make you regret this,” she said. “I promise that I’ll be a good mother for this baby, and a good woman for you. I’ll be by your side and support you through anything.”

  Grit nodded slowly, taking in Honey’s words. Without saying a thing, he took her by the hand and led her out onto the hotel room balcony. Together, they stood in front of the grand sweep of the city, the casinos and hotels of the Strip glittering and flashing in front of them. Off in the distance, the suburbs of the city seemed to stretch into forever, the grand mountains of the desert, deep purple in the evening light, rose majestically behind them. Grit wrapped his arm around Honey’s shoulders and pulled her close.