by Marla Monroe
Hawk couldn’t believe the beauty he had sitting behind him on his bike. He hadn’t really been able to see much of her with that cap pulled down over her eyes, but she had some wicked curves he’d love to get his hands and mouth on. Damn but he was hard as fuck. Watching her ass as they’d slowly ridden up on her had just about made him forget to hold on and control his bike. That sweet, squeezable butt swayed just the right amount to be natural and not a come-hither shake.
Fuck me!
The feel of her breasts pressed against his back didn’t help his current condition. Even through her shirt, his shirt, and his leather cut, there was no disguising the plush softness that was currently massaging his back as they rode over bumpy asphalt. She’d ridden on the back of a bike before he surmised by the fact that she’d wrapped her arms around him despite not feeling safe with him and moved with the motion of the bike. Most women tended to grasp at his side believing they could get away with not hugging him that way. This beauty knew better and had determined he was better than skinned flesh that would mean hours of picking rocks and asphalt out of it.
“H, man. That is one fine piece of ass riding behind you. Just wait until you get a good look of her. She has more curves than a mountain road. We could ride her for hours and not see all the sights I bet she has to offer.”
Hawk smiled. He was glad they were on their private frequency. The other guys wouldn’t let them forget about the one who got away, ’cause Hawk already knew she wouldn’t stick around.
“Keep your dick in your pants, Gunner. She won’t have the time of day for a couple of kind of reformed bikers. No use giving the others a reason to rag our asses. If they find out how much she affects you, they’ll piss you off in no time, and Rage and Terror will bust your ass for fighting. Simmer down, buddy.” Hawk hated that the first time his friend had shown any interest in a woman after Peggy had died, it would be a drifter who was scared to death of them in the first place.
“Not going to happen, man. I can lust after her all I want with you and in my head. Don’t mean I’m stupid enough to show it to the brothers,” Gunner told him with a snort. “Get real, Hawk. Now tell me what she feels like all pressed up against your back like she is. I bet them tits are drool-worthy.”
Hawk chuckled. “Like a wet dream. You feeling it? Her breasts are real. They’re soft and large enough to really enjoy without fear they’ll suffocate you when she’s on top.”
Gunner’s strained groan echoed over the mic. “Fuck you, man. The bike is vibrating a little too good against my balls right now.”
“Fuck, you’ve got it easy over there. My balls are vibrating just as much as yours, but I have a woman plastered to my back with her arms wrapped around me. I swear I can feel the heat from her pussy against my ass.”
“You ain’t right, man. You know that, don’t you.” Gunner growled across the radio. “What I wouldn’t give to taste that pussy. I bet it’s sweet as molasses.”
“I don’t know, G. I think she’s got a little sass in her. I bet she tastes rich and spicy,” he teased his friend.
“Don’t say that. You know how much I like a sassy woman. You better hope she doesn’t mouth off before we leave her at the garage,” Gunner warned.
“Forget it, man. We don’t need that kind of trouble.” Hawk had been teasing. He sure as hell didn’t expect his friend to get serious about the woman.
“Hey, you started it, bro,” Gunner said.
Holy fuck! What was I thinking? If she so much as looks at him wrong, he’s going to be all over her. Sometimes I should keep my mouth closed.
As soon as they pulled up outside the garage, his little rider jumped down off his bike so fast he hadn’t even managed to cut the engine. The rest of the gang rode on past, heading to the club on the opposite end of town. He climbed off just as Gunner walked over to take the helmet from the woman’s hands.
Hawk swore he didn’t see it coming, but he should have, and he couldn’t have stopped it if he’d wanted to.
Chapter Two
“Whoa! Stop right where you are. I appreciate the ride, but I don’t like being manhandled into one.” Jackie wanted to slam her hand over her mouth.
What the hell am I doing? Why on earth would I want to rile these two huge bikers up like that? Do I have a death wish or something? I’ve got enough to deal with without adding two pissed off reprobates to the list.
Jackie had one hand out as if she could stop a roaring train, and the other held the helmet which she extended behind her toward the other man. She just prayed he’d take it and call off the other one.
“Aw, little darling. Was I too rough on you? Let me see your hand so I can kiss the boo-boo and make it better,” the scowling biker said before reaching out to grab her outstretched hand.
Jackie tried to jerk it back when she realized what he was going to do, but she wasn’t fast enough. The man had lightning-fast reflexes, that was for sure. He’d snatched her hand and pulled her until she’d lost her balance so that she ended up holding on to him so she wouldn’t fall. His amused chuckle didn’t calm her down one bit.
She looked up at the oddly handsome face despite the scruffy look and the small scar. As he looked at her, she could see that those dark eyes were black as midnight and appeared deeper than an abyss. He had to be about six feet three with muscles on top of muscles. Everything about him from the intense stare to the leather vest with its various patches and pins screamed danger, danger. Turn back, Jackie. But she was caught, and she knew it.
“Be still,” he said.
Jackie immediately turned into a statue and almost held her breath. The mountain of a man looked at the back of her hand to her wrist and farther up her arm without saying a thing. Then he slowly turned it over to check the underside, as well. She knew the instant he saw it by the way he froze and the quick intake of breath. To her surprise, he grabbed her other arm and turned it over to check that one, as well.
“What the fuck!” The biker dropped her hands and stared down at her. “Don’t need that shit. Tell the guy in the garage The Howling Death MC sent you. He’ll take care of you.”
“My CAT punch!” she yelled.
He pulled it out of a pocket somewhere and tossed it to her before he stomped over to his bike and climbed on. He’d barely gotten his helmet on, not even securing the strap before he’d started the big bike up and was pulling out of the lot. The other biker stared at her from where he still sat as if she’d grown horns or something. She could tell he had black hair and dark eyes, but she couldn’t tell much more before he, too, took off.
Jackie wasn’t sure how long she stood there in the middle of the gravel lot listening to the fading sound of the two bikes, but someone cleared their throat behind her, so she turned around.
“What kin I do for you, lady?” a wrinkled old man asked with a wild twang in his voice.
“Um, my truck died on the way here about eight or so miles down the road. Radiator sprung a leak. Can you tow it in and fix the radiator for me?” she asked.
“Sure thing on towing her in, but can’t be sure ’bout the radiator till I take a look see.” The man turned and slowly walked bowlegged back to the garage without saying anything more. Jackie figured she was supposed to follow him, so she headed in that direction, still wondering why the bastard’s reaction to her scars had affected her so much.
She was used to pity and worried looks and even sneers, but the anger that had been on the man’s face puzzled her, and if she were honest, it had disappointed her a little. Why? She didn’t know him and was positive she’d never see him again. They were probably passing through just like she was. So why did his reaction hurt?
“Wanna ride along or wait for me here?” the wizened old man asked her as he climbed up behind the wheel of a huge wrecker.
“Is there a motel around here?” she asked as she pulled the truck key out of her pocket.
“Sure is. Just down the street there,” he said pointing in the same general direction the
bikes had gone.
“Here’s the key to the truck. Can’t miss it. I’m going to find a room for the night. What time should I come back to check on my truck?”
“Hmm, won’t look at it tonight, so better wait till close to noon so I have time to look at what I can do,” he said, scratching his chin.
“Okay. Um, the guys that brought me in said to tell you The Howling Wolf MC sent me,” she told him as an afterthought.
“Kinda figured that one out myself.” He chuckled until he started coughing. Shaking his head, he slammed the door shut and started up the rig.
After a few jerks and a loud backfire, the wrecker pulled out of the garage and turned toward her busted truck. Jackie wasn’t sure what she’d landed herself in the middle of, but just as soon as her truck was patched up and ready, she’d kick the town’s dust off her boots and keep going.
The walk “just down the street there” turned into the equivalent of almost five city blocks. Normally a brisk walk didn’t faze her, but after walking at least five miles in the boiling heat carrying a heavy pack on her back then riding to what she was afraid was her death on the back of a biker dude’s ride, Jackie was a bit worn out. When she finally made it to the motel, she opened the door and immediately plopped down on the nearest chair.
“How much crazier can my screwed-up life get?”
She just wanted a shower, a bed, and something decent to stuff in her belly. Maybe not in that order, but as soon as possible. A noise behind her made her twist in the chair to see what it was. To her shock, a little Chinese woman watched her from behind the registration desk. Jackie figured she had to be at least a hundred years old. There were wrinkles on her wrinkles, and she wasn’t sure if the tiny woman was smiling or it just looked that way due to the creases in her skin.
“You like room? How long?” the woman asked.
“Um, yes. I’m not sure. My truck broke down, so it depends on how long it takes to fix it,” she told the woman.
“One night, good. You need stay more, we can do that.” The woman pecked at the very old computer that took up twice as much room as a new one would have. After a few minutes, she grunted and looked up.
“How you pay?”
“Cash.”
The woman held out her hand. “Need license and forty dollars.”
Jackie fished out her license and two twenties then handed both to her. She pecked on the computer for another three or four minutes then handed her license back with a key that had a tennis ball attached to it by a small chain.
“Room twelve on back. Clean room, fresh sheets. I count towels so don’t steal.” She wagged her finger up at Jackie before turning around and disappearing through a door to one side of the desk.
“Guess that’s that.” Jackie was surprised there hadn’t been more to the registration process than that. She didn’t have to sign her name anywhere or even make up a tag number. Cash and her license.
She prayed as she walked around to the back of the motel that her room really would be clean with fresh sheets but didn’t count on it. The place had to be fifty years old and could use a fresh coat of paint. She stopped in front of the door to her room and shoved the key in the lock. It turned easily, and the door didn’t make a sound when she shoved it open with the toe of her boot.
Expecting stale air, Jackie had to squint to be sure she wasn’t seeing things. The room looked and smelled clean and fresh. The walls weren’t dingy white or puke green. Instead, a pale yellow complemented the mint green blackout curtains and bedspread.
“Just wow! Talk about not judging a book by its cover. This is nice.”
She stepped all the way inside and closed the door behind her. Dropping her pack on one of the chairs next to the window, Jackie tested the queen-size bed to find it comfortable. The mattress had to be fairly new to feel that nice. Jumping up, she checked out the bathroom and wasn’t disappointed. The fixtures were dated, but they were clean and it had fresh paint on the walls in there, as well. She’d really lucked up with where she’d broken down. The last place she’d stayed that hadn’t been in her truck had been so bad she wasn’t been able to get comfortable to sleep since she had refused to take her clothes off.
I’m going to take at least a couple of showers while I’m here just to make up for the ones I’ve missed.
Feeling a bit better after having seen her room, she decided to find something to eat before showering and going to bed. She was beat and hadn’t managed to get much sleep the entire trip from Texas three days ago. Had it already been three days? The trip should only have taken one, but she’d taken every back road she could find and double backed on herself a couple of times before crossing into Oklahoma.
She didn’t want to travel down that road again until she’d had something to eat, a nice hot shower, and clean clothes. Then she could figure out what she was going to do next. The pressures had been too much, which was why she’d left. Now she wasn’t going to let them build back up because she was tired and hungry.
Grabbing her pack and the tennis ball attached to the key, Jackie locked the door behind her and strode back the way she’d come. She was pretty sure she’d seen a sign for a diner on the walk to the hotel.
* * * *
“Gunner. Hold up, man. What the fuck was that all about?” Hawk jogged toward his friend hell-bent on getting inside the building in under two seconds.
As soon as he stepped into the clubhouse, Hawk spotted Gunner making a beeline toward the bar.
“Shiiiit,” he muttered, dragging the word out.
What the hell got him so pissed when he’d been about to give the woman a Gunner kiss to end all kisses? He hadn’t seen his friend that upset since…
Since Peggy had died. He needed to find out just what had set him off. It had taken Gunner nearly a year to be able to function and another year to be able to control the anger inside of him. If their new president hadn’t already had the name Rage, he’d have changed Gunner’s to that almost immediately. The man had torn apart his place and started working on the club until Hawk and the brothers had stopped him.
“Gunner? What’s going through your head right now? Talk to me.” Hawk sat on the stool next to his friend and waited.
And waited.
“She’s bad news. That’s all. Don’t know what I was thinking,” he said, turning up the shot of whiskey one of the sweet butts had poured for him.
“Yeah, well. Most women are. What was different about this one?”
“Nothing. Just realized I was about to screw the pooch, and it pissed me off.” He downed the next shot of whiskey, making a face as he slammed the glass down on the scarred bar.
Hawk knew his friend was lying to him about something but wasn’t sure what it was. He didn’t want to set him off over nothing, so he remained quiet, nursing his whiskey instead of downing it. Something about the woman that the other man had seen had caused the sudden turnaround in his mood and behavior. He just wasn’t sure what it could have been.
“Hey, man. That bitch meant business. How come the punch didn’t get you?” Jinx one of the other members of The Howling Death MC asked with a chuckle.
“Lay off the names, Jinx,” Gunner muttered. “The punch hit my fucking piece, or I’d be laid up in the meat house with a fucking pipe in my chest. Figured it would have punctured my lung.”
“And you don’t like me calling her a bitch?” Jinx asked, his eyes wide in disbelief.
Hawk butted in so Gunner wouldn’t lose it again. “She was scared to death of us, man. Can’t blame the woman for trying to defend herself. Not all MCs are decent enough not to take advantage of a woman on her own like that.”
“Okay, guess you’re right. Hell, Gun. Glad you didn’t have my luck. If it had been me, she probably would have gotten me in the heart.” Jinx wandered off to harass one of the sweet butts gathering trash.
“Asshole,” Gunner said under his breath.
“Think the parts house Terror is setting up will be a good investment
?” Hawk asked his friend, hoping to change the subject to something less volatile.
“Yeah, actually I do. There isn’t one within forty or so miles in any direction. The farmers and mechanics have to order all their parts over the Internet which costs money in shipping and takes time. Should pretty much break even until the loan’s paid out,” Gunner said, swirling the third shot of whiskey in the glass without downing it.
“That’s all we can ask. The crew’s pretty much flush for at least a couple of years with the bar and the gym. If we can get the bike shop up and running along with the parts store, maybe we can completely get out of the shady areas once and for all.” Hawk sure hoped so. It was only a matter of time before something backfired on them. Times were different now.
Making the changes to keep them out of trouble was one of the reasons he liked Terror and Rage. He’d had to run the local chapter of The Howling Death MC once their previous officers had been killed. He wasn’t a leader and had finally contacted the Mother chapter for help. When they’d sent Terror and Rage, nomads of the MC, he’d been worried. They’d looked like stone-cold killers, but turned out to be intelligent, coolheaded, and awesome leaders. He’d quickly gained respect for them and supported all their decisions and changes.
“Who’s going to manage the parts house? I know Bush is going to run the front part, but someone has to handle the books and the inventory,” Gunner said out of the blue.
“Loco’s the best choice for that since he already handles the information and Bush would be good, too. He’s familiar with handling our books as the secretary,” Hawk suggested.
“Loco’s already said he didn’t have time with keeping all of our various interests kosher with law enforcement. Don’t know about Bush. He’s great with the books, but can’t remember to order the fucking beer or toilet tissue worth shit. Got to have someone who knows parts and can stay on top of it without tying up money in inventory we don’t need.”
“True. Still can’t believe we ended up without a single roll of toilet paper but had five cases of fucking paper towels. I’d swear he did it on purpose except he was the one stuck in the shitter yelling for someone to bring him something to wipe his ass,” Hawk said with a chuckle.
