by Harper Riley
It’s not that public school is bad; it’s just that it’s not as secure. In the school she’s in, the class size is smaller, so teachers have fewer kids to keep track of and there’s a much better security system in place. I’m psychotic about my daughter’s safety and security, and this situation with Tanzie Williams is only proving my point about it.
When Shannon asks to be excused, I let her go. I help Cary clean up breakfast.
As we wash dishes, she says, “You know that girl, don’t you?”
I clear my throat. “She’s the daughter of another club president.”
Cary’s movements as she dries the dishes become sharper. She says, “I’m so glad you took a night away from all that drama, David. It’s been too long.”
“Don’t start,” I say. “I work hard.”
“That club is going to leave Shannon an orphan,” Cary says. “Just like club life left us without a father.”
“Enough. That club pays for Shannon’s schooling. It pays for her clothes. It pays for your car.”
“You’re a smart guy,” Cary says. “You could open a legitimate business. You could run for the Senate. You could invent the next big thing. Why the hell are you doing this?”
“I said don’t start,” I growl. “We’re not having this conversation right now.”
“Well, at the least, you should do more of these overnights. Shannon loves it.”
“I love it, too, but things are too volatile right now. I can’t be away like this.”
“She needs you, David.”
“She has me, Cary.”
We stare at each other, impasse making it impossible to find a way out of this argument. It’s not the first time we’ve said these words. Cary lives in a house I bought inside Barking Angels’ territory. I thought I might live in it with my daughter but once thing got more intense with the club, I asked Cary to move in and care for Shannon full time. She argued against it, but eventually I won out. Cary never misses a chance to tell me that she didn’t choose to be a mother, that she’d like to have a life of her own someday.
It’s not that Cary doesn’t love Shannon, she does. But Shannon’s school is inside the territory. Cary works at a hospital inside the territory. The house is inside the territory. Cary says she feels like she lives under a dome and I don’t blame her. I just don’t know how else to protect them. I need them both close. I need them safe.
With Tanzie Williams’ face in my mind, I kiss my daughter’s cheek and hold her for a little longer than usual. I hug my sister, too, and tell her to stay close to home.
“Why do I have a bad feeling?” Cary asks me as I step out the front door.
“It’ll be fine,” I say. “Be good.”
Inside, though, I know just what she means.
Chapter 13 - Tanzie
Grisham’s return is what I imagine a tornado to be like. The door opens and he busts in, his large frame filling the doorway before he slams the door behind him.
The calm energy of the room electrifies as he moves around, pulling his shirt over his head. He follows with his boots and pants. I note that he’s wearing the same thing he had on when he left last night.
“Get lucky last night?” I ask. It’s a childish thing to say.
“I went to see my daughter,” he answers. His tone is flat. The answer is simple and truthful.
“Oh,” I say lamely. “Well, I feel stupid now.”
“Don’t,” he says. “Most people don’t even know she exists.”
That shuts me up right quick. Why would he tell me he has a daughter? I may not be involved in club business, but I understand how dangerous it is to share information like this. I mean, look at me ... obviously someone told that Spree guy that Drew had a daughter, that I visited my mom on Sundays, that I was old enough to claim.
Naked and gorgeous, Grisham stomps into the bathroom, fists clenched at his side. I hear the sound of the shower turning on, then the creak of the glass door. I should turn my attention back to my book, but curiosity gets the best of me, so I pad in after him, sitting on the edge of the big soaker tub as he lathers his amazing body in the shower.
“How old is she?” I ask. “Your daughter.”
“Five.”
“Do you have a wife, too?”
“No.”
“Girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Where is your daughter’s mother? Is that who she lives with?”
The shower turns off and he steps out, his tanned body flushed from the hot water, his hair dark as an oil slick, his muscles rippling with tension as water rolls over him. He grabs a towel as I gape.
“Shannon’s mother died during childbirth,” he says.
“Oh,” I say again. I quickly add, “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?” he asks. “It’s not your fault.”
“Well, I just ... I ...”
He finishes drying off and wanders back into the bedroom, looking through his closet before pulling on a pair of jeans, a black T-shirt, and the black leather kutte that bears the Barking Angels’ colors. He pulls on his socks and boots, and then follows with a belt, complete with a weapons holster.
He pulls open a safe in the bottom of his closet, from which he draws a handgun. He checks to make sure it’s loaded before slipping it into the holster, following with a knife in the other side, and another knife in his boot.
My stomach practically drops to my feet. Is all of this for my father and his club?
Grisham must see something on my face. He answers my unasked question.
“Your face was all over the news. Spree’s not a careful guy. There’s not a chance in hell your father hasn’t figured out you’re here.”
“What will you do if he comes?”
“I’ll negotiate.”
The amount of weapons on his belt makes me think otherwise, but before I can ask more questions, he’s out the door.
Chapter 14 - Grisham
I head outside to move my bike. I left it out in front of the house when I arrived, eager to get a sense of the mood of the club after a night away. Now that I’ve showered and made the rounds, I should take it around to the garage.
My motorcycle is like my second child. I could never love it more than I love Shannon, but it comes pretty close. I had this custom Harley made before I ever started the club and while other guys have upgraded and traded, this bike will be my ride as long as it starts up for me. My sweet baby is shiny and black and she rumbles like a satisfied cat. I fire her up and make the short drive back to the garage, where I find some of my guys, including a badly bruised Spree, peering at the security display for the property.
“What’s going on?” I ask as I push my bike into its spot.
“Four guys in Blazing Pistons’ colors are standing outside the northwest fence. We saw them drive by about three times, so we were pretty sure they were casing the joint. Looks like they might be thinking about jumping the fence,” my garage supervisor, Tony, says.
“I can go shoot a few warning rounds in the air if you want?” Spree asks. “Give them fair warning to get the fuck off our property?”
I lick my teeth as I stare him down. He’s jittery today, bouncing on his heels, wringing his hands. If he thinks I can’t tell he’s fueled by something besides adrenaline, he’s dumber than I thought.
“Inside the fence or out, they’re already on our property and in our territory,” I say, not breaking eye contact with my dickhead vice president. “Jace, Tony, and Dexter, come with me to greet our trespassers. Spree, get the fuck out of my sight and get the guys at the house locked and loaded in case we need backup.”
My guys fall in line with me and we make our way to the northwest edge of the property. It’s always been an area of vulnerability, with the corner of the fencing hiding under plenty of tree cover. I like the privacy, but goddamn if we don’t need to figure out a better way to secure that area.
We actually catch the four guys climbing over. Three are fairly young but
one is older, middle aged. None are Drew Williams, and it really surprises me that they only sent four. In fact, I radio for the front gate to keep an eye out, in case this is some distraction meant to allow a larger group through the front gate.
“All clear here, boss,” is the reply.
They’re checking their weapons as we approach and all four have their backs turned to us. Dexter holds a shotgun, which he cocks to get their attention. They spin, hands going straight to their weapons, and each man finds a gun trained on him.
“Hands up, boys,” I say. “What are you doing on my property?”
The eldest of the group puts his hands in the air, the others following his lead. He’s probably a head shorter than I am, but stocky. His high-and-tight cut highlights the gray at his temples. I recognize him immediately. This is Kit, Drew’s vice president.
“Kit,” I say. “Couldn’t ring the doorbell like a normal visitor?”
He grins. “Heard you might have something my boss is lookin’ for. Thought we’d peek around and see if we could find it.”
“Sneaking around like that could get you hurt. Not sure how Drew would react to someone scaling his fence, but I think you should be glad you don’t have a bullet lodged in your ass right now.”
“Well, my ass thanks you for being less of a hothead than Drew,” Kit says. He pauses and his eyes flit to me, then to my guys, then back to me. “Where’s the girl, Grisham?”
“Why don’t we walk up to the house and have a conversation like gentlemen, rather than talking in riddles out here in the backyard?” I ask.
Dexter motions the shotgun to move the guys forward. “Keep your hands up,” he orders. The Blazing Pistons’ representatives obey, trudging along ahead of us, our guns to their backs. We make it to the garage and our boots crunch on the gravel drive, the only sound as we near the house.
We stop as we near the front steps. Several of my guys have come out to stand behind me, though Spree is nowhere to be found. I keep my weapon trained on Kit.
“Very disrespectful, what you did today,” I say. “By all accounts, you could all four be dead right now and Drew would have no recourse.”
“Well, Drew could’ve come and shot the front gate down,” Kit says. “He sent us in to be sure she was here, first, instead of starting war for no reason.”
“How benevolent of him,” I say. “Too bad y’all fucked up.”
“The girl, Grisham,” Kit says once more. “Where is she?”
“What girl are we talking about?” I ask. “And what’s she to you?”
Kit narrows his eyes, trying to read me. I give him a look that says I’m not in a talkative mood.
Kit’s eyes go wide all of a sudden, his hand instantly going to his weapon. My guys are all a blur as they surround the four Blazing Pistons. Kit’s now got a gun pointed at his head in addition to the one Dexter points at his chest.
I turn and there’s Spree, holding Tanzie with a knife at her throat. His pupils are huge, even though it’s bright and sunny. His face is split into a grin made more maniacal by all of the damage I did. He says, “Come for this little slut? She’s probably got six loads of cum in her by now.”
I turn my head to look at Kit. He tries to look unaffected but I see something there. A slight flinch, his eyes focused on the sheen of Spree’s knife against Tanzie’s creamy skin. He cares for her. Maybe it’s just the caring one would have for a friend’s kid, but I don’t think so, because his eyes roam—to her pert breasts, outlined nicely by the form-fitting dress she wears, to the line of her pelvic bone, and down below.
Well, this calls for a different tactic, then.
I stomp up the stairs and grab her by the hair. Spree loosens his grip and steps away. I make eye contact and project every nasty thought I have at him in that moment. He grins at me and I can’t tell if it’s excitement over all this action he’s seeing, or if he’s taunting me. He’s forcing my hand here and he knows it. We showed our cards too quickly by letting them see that the girl is here. Now I need to show strength, or this will not turn our way at all.
I turn my attention to Tanzie. “You know this guy?” I ask, jerking my head toward Kit.
She nods, first hesitantly, then more vigorously. “He’s my dad’s second.”
“He climbed over my fence to find you,” I say. “Kind of romantic, isn’t it? The valiant knight come to save the princess from the dragon.”
She sucks in her bottom lip. Her eyes are huge in her beautiful face. She’s got a line of indentation on one cheek, like she might have been sleeping when Spree grabbed her.
I look at Kit. He has his lips pressed into a line, his forehead wrinkling. Concern is all over his face.
“Tanzie,” he says.
Tanzie looks at him but I can’t read her expression. She closes her eyes.
“You don’t get to say her name,” I say to Kit. “She’s mine now.”
Kit looks at Tanzie, back to me, back to Tanzie.
“Get on your knees,” I say to her. “You’re going to suck my cock like a good little girl, now.”
Her eyes go wide, but she does as she’s told, slowly making her way to the ground, her bare legs scraping on the concrete. She’s barefooted, I notice for the first time. She’s a natural beauty, with no makeup and a simply ponytail. Somehow, though, she looks like a fucking model and I find that it’s not hard to get aroused at all just by looking at her.
I unzip my pants and pull out my cock, rubbing my hand along its length a few times.
“Open that sweet pink mouth for me, Tanzie,” I say. “Show everyone just who you belong to.”
I hold my hand in her hair. She opens her mouth, her eyes focused upward, meeting mine, staying there. She takes me into her mouth, at first tentatively. Her tongue swirls around the head and my cock hardens instantly. She moves her head, slowly increasing her movements.
I nod ever so slightly. “That’s right. Take it balls deep, girl.”
She takes me deeper. I can feel her trying to stop her gag reflex and it makes me wonder if she’s ever had a cock in her mouth before this. Not for the first time, I wonder if she’s got any sexual experience at all.
I gently push at the back of her head, making her move faster. She hasn’t stopped looking at me. The connection between us is electric. If I weren’t trying to prove a point, I’d be ten inches into her pussy by now.
“You can do better than this, love,” I say, cocking my head.
I pull her head back now, and start to thrust.
Chapter 15 - Tanzie
I fight back the urge to gag, at first. I’ve never done this before and while I’m totally freaked out to be doing it on the front steps of a mansion, with Kit and a dozen other guys watching, I’m more worried I’m not doing it right.
I close my eyes to stay in the moment. He moves my head back and forth at a pace he likes, controlling me. I take his cues and listen to his commands because, at baseline, I want to make him happy. I want to make him feel good because if he feels good, then it’s really me who has the control, right?
I mean, I know I should be embarrassed or angry. To be put in this position of vulnerability, to be debased like this, it’s disrespectful. And confusing, I guess, since he’s obviously tried to stop anything sexual between us up to now. But I’m not mad or embarrassed at all. In fact, I feel a deep, deep want unfurl in my core, a desire to go further, to be closer. This is turning me on.
When he tips my head back and thrusts, I have to force my throat to stay open, to take the length of him. I hear moaning and realize it’s coming from me, from deep inside my throat as I take all of him. I work my tongue along the shaft as he picks up the pace.
“That’s it, baby. Take all of it,” he says. It’s barely a whisper, an encouragement just for me, he says. “Just a little longer.”
I open my eyes and his gaze is right there. It’s dark and hungry and focused. It’s like we’re alone. He wants this. He likes it. And I want to feel him come for me.
<
br /> He doesn’t break our connection, just stays totally focused on me, giving me soft words of encouragement until I feel the salty release start to slide down my throat. I swallow, and when he’s fully spent, he withdraws, tucks himself back into his jeans, and holds a hand out to help me up.
He pulls me in front of him then and meets the eyes of Kit and the other Blazing Pistons, who watch with varied expressions. Two of the guys are sporting active wood. Kit, however, looks revolted, his mouth turned down in a deep grimace.
Grisham reaches around, one hand snaking up under the hem of my dress and to my inner thighs, pushing away my panties, slipping a finger into my folds. I’m surprised once more to find myself wet for him. Drenched, in fact, and as his lips meet my ear he says, “Good girl.”
My hips move forward ever so slightly, pushing into his touch. He chuckles a bit, splaying his other hand over my dress-covered breast, pinching at the nipple underneath. His fingers find my clit and he strums it like a guitar string. I lean back into him, wanting nothing more than for him to play me straight to the edge.
“Sorry, Kit,” Grisham says. “As you can see, this young thing has been well and fully claimed. She’s mine, and she’s not going anywhere with you.”
Kit starts to step forward, his hands in tight balls at his sides, but thinks better of it when a third gun ends up pointed at him. These four guys are outnumbered. There’s no way he can fight for me and get out of here unscathed.
He puts his hands back up in surrender. His eyes meet mine and I’m surprised to be able to hold his gaze long enough that it’s he who looks away first. He scowls and says, “We’ll go quietly. We’ll let Drew know that his daughter is sucking cock on your doorstep like a common whore. That should go over real well.”
