Rad’s feelings about all that were ambivalent. On one hand, he thought it was a lot of affected bullshit and far too self-important for a club that was barely a smudge on the map. On the other hand, calling a room with a table a ‘chapel’ was probably just as affected. And he understood the impulse to cling to history. Especially if it was all you had to cling to.
So they went into the Horde’s Hall, which looked like a worn-out version of every club party room he’d ever seen, and greeted the other members of the Horde who were there. Then they sat at the bar and drank and ate and waited for the club leadership to get there and accept the Bulls’ help.
Pretty fucking ballsy of Big Ike to make them wait.
~oOo~
One of the women in the Hall was a reedy redhead who looked barely legal. She was dressed in ratty jeans and a flannel shirt, like one of those grunge idiots, but she was hot. Tall, with long limbs. Fine ass. Rad was an ass man. And tits. And legs. Hell, he was an equal-opportunity enjoyer of all female parts.
While he checked her out—no harm in looking, whatever was going on between him and Willa—the Horde next to him leaned close. “That’s my little girl. Watch your manners.”
Rad moved his eyes from the girl and gave Frank, the Horde SAA, a careful nod. “Sorry, brother. No disrespect intended.”
“None taken yet. S’why I said something. Hate to have to break a friend’s face.”
Frank was a probably a good twenty years older than he, and he carried a lot of booze and rich food in his belly. But Rad had learned long ago not to get cocky about whom he could take and whom he couldn’t—especially not if a daughter’s honor was on the line.
“Not lookin’ to party in any case. Got a woman at home.”
As Frank swallowed down his beer, he gave Rad a wise nod. The foam frosting over his mustache when he set his empty glass down took some of the gravitas from the moment. “You got kids?”
“No.” He’d never felt the pull toward fatherhood.
“You’re lucky. I love my girl more’n anything else, but it’s hard duty, taking care of a kid. ‘Specially a girl. Just been me and Tash most of her life, and I know I ain’t done right by her. Girls need a woman’s hand, and ain’t no women around here worth shit. Raised up by me, she’s a wild thing. Now she looks like that, and I don’t know what the fuck to do with her.”
Rad had no idea what to say to any of that, but he knew damn well he wouldn’t be checking out the redhead again.
~oOo~
The Bulls had been sitting with the Horde almost an hour when the front door opened and Big Ike and Reg sauntered in, with the prospect Frank had sent after them trotting in behind.
Remembering that moment at the diner in Texas, just a few days earlier, Rad turned to Little Ike and checked his reaction to his old man showing up.
There wasn’t one. The son sat at the bar and drank his beer, not even looking at the door.
Big Ike went to Delaney and held out his hand. “D. Sorry to keep you waiting. Expected you a little later.”
Though Delaney and Big Ike were friends, and though the Bulls president had been cordial about the delay when they’d first arrived, now, after waiting, he was obviously irritated. He received Big Ike’s apology with a nod. “Well, we got business to do. How about the Keep?”
Big Ike’s eyes narrowed, like he’d taken offense. “Keep’s for members only, D. We can talk out here.”
Jesus fuck. Rad and Dane shared a glance. The Bulls had convinced the Volkovs to take a bet on a tiny club with no rep to run their guns through the middle corridor. They had a van full of guns that they were all but giving the Horde, because they couldn’t arm themselves well enough to handle the work.
Delaney had done all that on Big Ike’s ask. He’d called in a valuable marker with Kirill Volkov to do it.
Now that the Horde president had asked for and received what amounted to charity, it must have stuck in the man’s craw. This was not how he should have been receiving the help he’d held out his damn hand for.
Delaney stood up tall. He had only an inch or two on Big Ike, but he made the most of it.
Rad moved in behind him. He didn’t expect Delaney to get violent here, but he liked to be ready for anything. Dane shifted his stance, too.
“We talk business in private, or we don’t talk it at all,” Delaney said. His voice was calm. Conversational.
Big Ike’s eyes narrowed more.
“Dad. This belongs in the Keep.” Little Ike stepped forward, coming up on Rad’s flank. It was like Mount Everest had moved in next to him. Christ, the kid was big. Bigger than Ox, even.
Big Ike, whose nickname was a farce in comparison to his son, shot a vile look at Little Ike. “Shut up, boy. The men are talkin’.”
Rad would have sworn the kid got even bigger in response. Fuck. If he had to fight that, he was gonna have a hard ride home.
Frank, still sitting at the bar, yet somehow in the middle of the cluster, said, “Ike. There’s room at our table for us to sit and talk with friends.”
Big Ike had one more nasty glare in him, and he gave it to his SAA. Then he gave in. The tension in the air released with an almost audible pop.
The Horde president put on a big smile. “Frank’s right. We got business, and the women got work out here. We’re grateful for the help and the work. C’mon and have a seat at our table.”
As they walked into the Keep behind Little Ike, Rad saw the redhead lingering nearby. He’d have bet a Ben Franklin that some kind of look passed between her and the Horde prince—the kind of look Frank should be watching out for.
He was glad they meant to head back to Tulsa that afternoon.
CHAPTER TWELVE
When Willa came into the bedroom, Rad was sitting on the chair, pulling his boots on. She’d left him asleep in the bed when she’d gotten up to get her morning started. She was on first shift, so her days started before sunrise. Today was the first day since the crash a bit more than two weeks before that her leg had felt good enough to try for a run with Ollie.
That had been ambitious. After about ten minutes, the run had become a walk, but it was a start. Ollie had been beside himself to get back out on the road at any speed.
She’d showered alone. Rad preferred to shower after work rather than before, and, anyway, when they showered together, they lost focus on hygiene.
“Morning.” She kissed the top of his head.
Grabbing her hips, he pulled her between his legs. “Mornin’, beautiful. You want company for lunch?” He tugged on the towel around her until the tucked end came loose and it fell away, then drew her closer, framing her with his denim-sheathed thighs. He buried his face between her breasts for a moment, then turned and drew one into his mouth. Her knees trembled, and he tightened his hold on her.
She couldn’t think of an answer to his question while the suckling rhythm of his mouth sent drumbeats of need through her body. Without her consent, her legs climbed over his so that she was straddled on his lap. Rad groaned against her nipple.
Standing in the doorway, Ollie gave them a disgusted huff and went out and down the hall.
Paying no mind to the dog, Rad fumbled between them, between her legs, and Willa knew he was opening his jeans. Then his cock was out, the solid heft of him pressing against her clit. A forceful shift of his body on the chair, and he was inside her so fast she cried out.
“Rad…condom,” she managed to gasp.
“Shhh. Just this.” His voice came through as if a fist clenched his throat. “Won’t move. Don’t you move, either. Just…fuck. Just this. For a minute.” His hand snarled in her hair, and he pulled her mouth to his. “Safe, right?” he asked before he kissed her.
She’d just finished her period; she guessed he meant that. Nothing was completely safe, but if they were going to play rhythm roulette, the day after the end of her period was a decent bet. Now that he was inside her, now that she could feel the true heat of him, she was willing to place that bet. Sh
e closed the last minute fraction of distance between their mouths and found his tongue, and she let that be her answer.
Their mouths clashed wildly, their tongues thrusting, mimicking the movements denied the rest of their bodies until Willa couldn’t be still any longer. Without intending it, without thinking about why she shouldn’t, simply following a silent command from deep inside her, she began to rock on Rad’s lap, keeping tempo with the strokes of their tongues together.
Rad groaned but didn’t stop her, not right away. He clutched her head hard to him, dug his fingers into her scalp, pulled her hair. His mouth dominated hers, his tongue claimed hers, his teeth and beard left their marks.
Suddenly, he tore his mouth away. “Okay, okay.”
She knew what he meant, but she didn’t want to stop. She was close, and reason had let recklessness take over. She wanted to come.
“Willa…”
“Don’t come,” she whispered, then tucked her head against his throat and sucked, drawing his pulse point to her tongue. Her hips picked up a faster beat.
“Fuck,” he groaned, and his hands dropped to grasp her hips. “Fuck.”
“Don’t come.”
“Sweet fuck.”
“Don’t…” God, she was close. That beautiful, loose heat washed through her blood. “Don’t…come. Oh shit, oh shit.”
“Jesus fuck, Willa!” But his hands had dug into her hips and were moving her even faster than she had been moving herself. “Go, baby. Come on me. Do it, do it!”
She did. She knotted her arms around his neck and came with abandon, throwing her head back and letting ferocious bliss pour down over her.
While her throes were just subsiding, Rad heaved her off his cock. His face was dark red, and thick cords of tendon had risen up in bold relief against his throat. Willa moved from his lap and dropped to her knees between his legs.
The moment she sucked him deep, he came explosively, his body jerking up from the chair in an awkward backbend. Willa swallowed him down, sucking all she could, until his twitching hips settled, and he lifted her mouth off of him.
Willa kissed the tip of Rad’s softening cock. Smiling up at him, she wiped the corners of her mouth and then licked her fingers. “I’d love company for lunch.”
He grinned back, that cocksure smirk she knew so well now. “You’re a bad damn influence, baby.”
~oOo~
The woman on the bed moaned, “Ow, ow, ow!”
“I know, Helen, I know.” Willa soothed. “I’m sorry. All done.” She pulled her hand back and patted the woman’s knee. “You’re six centimeters. This would be the time to get an epidural. Any later, and things might be moving too fast.”
She snapped the gloves off and tossed them in the waste container.
Helen shook her head. “Not yet. I want to keep trying to do this myself.” Another contraction began, and she clutched her belly. “Ooooowwww! Where’s Fred?”
“Breathe, honey. Remember the classes.” Willa bent close and began the breathing for her. Helen tried to focus and, just at the peak of the pain, the rhythm took over and gave her some calm.
Helen blew out the end of the contraction. “Where’s Fred?”
Her husband, who remained AWOL. Helen had arrived alone at the ER in the middle of third shift, her membranes already ruptured. Willa had inherited her active labor. That was, in her opinion, the worst way to come into a laboring mother’s life: when she was already deeply involved in bringing her child into the world. There was little chance to form a bond, and many women felt guarded and even betrayed by a shift change, when a new set of strangers arrived to get all up in their private parts.
“Is there a number you’d like me to call to track him down?” As she asked, Willa checked the tape on the fetal monitor. Baby’s heartbeat was strong. Helen’s contractions were speeding up markedly, each one closer than the next. This was Helen’s first birth, which usually meant a slow and steady progress to full dilation, but looking at the tape, Willa thought those last four centimeters could happen pretty soon.
While the tape was still in her hands, the needle began to move upward, and Helen whimpered. “Oh shit, not already!”
Willa dropped the tape and went to her patient. She took her hand, and Helen clamped down. “Ow, oh ow!”
Willa breathed, and Helen followed, and she got through it.
“I need Fred,” she wept when it was over.
There had to be phone numbers in her chart. Willa brushed the sweaty bangs from Helen’s forehead. “I’m gonna try to find Fred. And I’m calling Dr. Ingersoll. You’re doing great, Helen.”
“Don’t leave me!”
“I’ll be right back, okay? Let me try to track your husband down.”
She had two other patients, but one was in recovery and the other was barely dilated. She had time to make sure Helen didn’t go through this alone.
~oOo~
Sixty-one minutes later, Helen gave birth to a little boy. They had located Fred, an independent long-haul trucker, in Nebraska. He’d been trying to squeeze in one more run before the baby. He hadn’t quite managed it.
Willa served as Helen’s birth coach. After a quick, textbook vaginal delivery—with no epidural—mother and child were happy and resting. When a set of grandparents showed up to coo and cuddle, Willa left the family alone.
It was a bit past nine in the morning on a sunny day on the late end of mid-April. She’d had her first, albeit short, run since her knee was hurt, and a rousing, slightly risky morning fuck with Rad to start her day. She’d helped a mom bring a new life into the world, and she was looking forward to lunch—and probably a quickie—with Rad in a few hours. Willa was in a great mood as she left Helen’s room.
The vibe in the corridor felt wrong right away. There wasn’t enough bustle for a Wednesday morning. Passing the waiting room on the way to the nurses’ station, she noticed that every single person there was staring in the same direction. At the television.
She stepped into the room. The news was on, showing a demolished building and rubble and chaos around it. A ‘breaking news’ banner on the bottom of the screen read Explosion in Oklahoma City.
She backed out and hurried to the nurse’s station. There was a small television on the desk, and almost the entire shift team was clustered around it. A couple of doctors, including Dr. Ingersoll, were there, too.
“What’s going on?”
Janet, the shift leader, turned. She was crying. “Somebody blew up the Murrah building! Mike works there!”
Mike was her son. “What?”
Otto, another nurse, answered, “They’re saying a truck exploded. There’s a daycare center in that building. There are babies.”
While they watched, more building debris crashed down to the ground. “Mike! Mike!” Janet wailed.
The head nurse, Marcella, hung up the phone. “They’re calling for help. They need hands in the local ERs and at the site. Ned wants to put a team on a bus as soon as we can. Will—you have emergency experience. And you, Otto. I’ll get your shifts covered. Will you go?”
Neither Otto nor Willa hesitated.
“I want to go, too!” Janet said.
Marcella set a hand on your shoulder. “They’ll take you. But not to work. Find Mike.”
“When do we leave?” Willa asked.
“An hour. If you need to go home, do, but get back here right away.”
Glad to have more to do than sit and watch a horror, Willa hurried to the lounge. She needed to call Rad.
He was at work, too, so she dialed the Sinclair station.
“Delaney Service.”
Willa didn’t recognize the voice. “Um, hi. I’m calling for Rad.”
“Yeah, sure. One sec.” A loud clatter shook Willa’s eardrum, like the handset had been dropped to the desk.
The sounds of the station filled her ear: the ding-ding of the driveway bell. Male voices in low conversation. But no air wrench, no thump and clatter of tools. No laughter. A radio
broadcast of the news coming out of Oklahoma City filled the space where activity should have been. Then the shuffle of the handset being picked up.
Crash (The Brazen Bulls MC Book 1) Page 15
