A Dirty Lion

by Faye Byrd

  “That’s not good enough.” His voice is fierce and his fists are opening and closing. “Did he bring you here against your will?”

  I look at the ground and hope my answer scatters in the wind. “No.”

  Enzo lifts my chin, his eyes cold. “You rode on the back of his bike?”

  I snatch my chin from his grasp and walk over to his Harley, refusing to incriminate myself. After the way I showed out with that stupid bunny the other week, I have no ground to stand on. He’s going to be pissed, and I accept that, but he’s going to have to do it in safer territory. As it is, we’re sitting ducks. If Jack catches us, Enzo rescuing me on his turf, blood will spill.

  “Ride with Jameson.” Enzo shoves his extra helmet on my head and passes me before throwing a long muscular leg over his sexy bike. His anger only makes him hotter, sitting there with his biceps bulging and no shirt under his vest. Ignoring him, I attempt to climb on back, but he shoves my hands away with a glare. “I don’t like you right now.”

  “Fine.” I huff, adding an extra sway to my hips as I approach the Lion prospect. “Hey there, handsome,” I purr, tracing my finger up his arm. “The president says I’m gonna have to hitch a ride with you. Does that sound like something you’d want?”

  His jaw is open but he can’t seem to form words, so he nods. I smile my most seductive smile and move my hand down his arm to make the transfer to his waist. Exaggerating my every move, I feel him up as much as I can and hope Enzo takes the bait. It’ll be a travesty if he really does make me ride with this Polo-clad douche.

  Just as I grip Jameson’s waist to swing my leg over, Enzo’s Harley roars up beside us. “Get the fuck on,” he growls, motioning his head to the empty spot behind him. When I’m on my seat with my arms secured around his waist, he turns to the side so I can hear him clearly. “I’ll admit that was a fucking stupid idea, but letting you ride with me doesn’t mean I’m not pissed. It just means I want to snap that motherfucker’s neck because you touched him, so imagine how I feel knowing you clung to that scumbag Jackson.”

  He doesn’t give me a chance to respond, choosing instead to burn a long black mark across the concrete on his way out of the lot. The rest of the ride is just as tumultuous. He roars through the streets, leaving the rest of his MC in the dust as he takes his anger out on the road.

  Maybe he’ll take it out on me once we arrive back at the clubhouse. I never have had the pleasure of an angry fuck, and today seems as good a day as any. My semi-normal world here in Crescent City has just been obliterated, and the only people who can help me now are the Dirty Lions.

  It’s a good thing their president likes me—usually.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Was It, or Wasn’t It?

  Enzo

  “Strip.”

  “Enzo, I—”

  “Save it,” I growl, throwing up my hand. “You fucked up, and you have to be punished.” I start pacing, rage racing beneath my skin and propelling my feet to move. “I can’t quite grasp why my fucking lover would hop on the back of my enemy’s bike. Why she’d cling to that motherfucker’s waist.”

  “I’ve always rid—”

  I stop pacing and spear her with a glare so cold the words freeze on her pretty pink lips. “You’re still fucking dressed?” I challenge, tossing my Cut to the floor and rolling my shoulders. “I want you naked and wet.” I step closer to tower over her. “Now.”

  She lifts her dark eyes, and fire burns in them. I’m not sure how to feel about that, but I’ll consider it a challenge—something to diminish. It’s time she learns the price of defiance. Gripping the collar of her thin tank, I yank, snapping the straps at the seams to reveal her bare chest.

  “And braless.” My anger skyrockets, causing me to fist the material and snatch it from her body. “Lose the shorts.” I take a step back, locking my hands behind my back. “Bad girls don’t get paid, Randi, and they don’t have orgasms.”

  She pauses, her shorts pushed down enough that I can see the delicate white lace of her thong. “Just fuck me, Enzo.” She sends them both down her long legs to pool around her feet. “Take your anger out on my pussy.” She turns and anchors her arms against the wall, her eyes meeting mine over her shoulder. “And when you’re done, we’re going to fucking talk.”

  Goddammit.

  I kick off my boots, my eyes trained on the delicate arch of her back, and release the zipper of my jeans. My cock fights its way past the thick material in search of its favorite new toy. Stepping out of my jeans, I rip open a condom with my teeth and roll it down my shaft. Fisting myself, I contemplate all the ways I’m going to punish her.

  “Legs spread.” I kick them apart and encircle her waist, shifting her pelvis so it’s angled toward me. “Ass out.” My hand roams up her stomach to cup her tit, flicking my thumb across the tight bud. She moans, and I bite her shoulder out of spite. “You don’t fucking get to feel good.”

  She hisses but otherwise takes that shit. “Keep telling yourself that.”

  Anger jolts through me like a fucking lightning bolt, and I react, drawing back and slapping her on the ass. Before she can respond to the sting, I fist my cock and run it through her wetness, plunging deep inside. I draw back and smack her ass again, eliciting a choked moan. Driven by the mental image of her arms around another man, on his bike, I press her face against the wall and pivot my hips violently.

  My orgasm builds swiftly. Physical domination permeates my every cell and fires off electrical currents that gather in my stomach and race downward. My balls tighten, and she flutters around me, sending me into a panic. I pull my cock from her body and fist it tightly, stroking myself to completion.

  She turns, panting and appalled, and I smirk, tossing the condom into the nearby bin before caging her against the wall. “No orgasms for Randi.” I kiss her shoulder. “Maybe.” Nibble. Suck. Lick. “You have a reasonable explanation.” I grasp her creamy ribcage with my tanned hands. “And if so …” I drop before her, rubbing my scruff against her toned stomach. “I’ll make it up to you.”

  Small fists grip my hair, and her thighs clench as she squirms, seeking friction. “Please, Enzo,” she pants, attempting to push my head downward. “Don’t leave me like this.”

  I open my mouth and place hot, wet kisses along her abdomen, humming as my lips suck just above her pubic hair. “Tell me the truth, Randi.” I sink my teeth into her flesh. “Why were you with him?”

  She growls, and it’s so fucking sexy. Tightening her fists, she snatches my hair, pulling my head backward so I have no choice but to meet her agitated eyes. “Make me come first.”

  “No.” I mean that shit, and she must see it in my eyes.

  “Fine.” She releases my hair and pushes me out of the way before walking over and grabbing a T-shirt out of my drawer. She throws it over her head and settles onto my bed with a huff. “He was parked next to my ride when I came out of class, so I didn’t have a choice but to hop on when he told me to.”

  That’s not a good enough reason by any stretch, but I let it slide in favor of getting the whole story. I go to the same dresser and yank out a pair of basketball shorts, donning them and kicking back against the leather headboard. She’s sprawled across the foot, and it’s hard to ignore that she doesn’t have underwear on, but I do.

  This shit is important.

  The days of her chilling with Jackson are over.

  “What did he want?” I ask, kickstarting my fact-finding mission.

  The conversation that follows pisses me off more than I thought was possible. And even though my anger is no longer directed at Randi, it’s hard to exclude her. She should’ve told him no. They were in a public place, and he couldn’t very well kidnap her ass.

  “So you told him to fuck off,” I say, making sure to get this shit straight from jump. “Did you inform him who that pussy belongs to?”

  “Yes,” she responds, narrowing her eyes my way. “And no.” As I lean forward to chew her ass, she adds, “He’d alrea
dy threatened me. Did you want me to goad him into killing me?”

  “No,” I growl, even though it pisses me off that he doesn’t know. “I don’t want you dead.”

  “But you want him to know that I’ve already sold my virginity to you?” She rolls her eyes. “How can that even matter to you right now?”

  “It just fucking does.” Him insinuating he should’ve taken what I’ve already claimed is enough to set my teeth on edge. “Can you imagine the look on his face?”

  “Murderous rage,” she sneers. “Yeah, I can imagine it.”

  “Because he threatened you,” I growl, jumping up to pace. “This whole outing complicates shit.” I stop, glaring her way. “Now I have no choice but to declare war.”

  She sits up, flashing her succulent pussy as she changes positions. “You didn’t do that when you stole his minors, killed two of his prospects, and blew up a building full of fucking people?”

  “No.” My glare intensifies, my eyes narrowing into slits. “That was my arrival announcement.”

  “Whatever,” she mumbles, rising from the bed and searching around the floor for her shorts. When she finds them, she pulls them up her shapely legs—sans sexy lace thong. “I’m not arguing semantics. You’re whining about declaring an obvious war, while I’m fucked. He’s going to come looking for me again, and it’s going to be soon.”

  I walk over and grab her arm. “You’re not fucked.” I smirk, images from earlier flashing through my mind. “In either respect.”

  “Fuck you.” She yanks her arm from my grasp and stomps out of the room. All I can do is watch her go. She looks too fucking hot to stop her, and it isn’t until she’s out of sight that my mind clears and I realize she’s planning on leaving the safety of the clubhouse without the first goddamn thing settled between us.

  “Damnit,” I mutter, grabbing a tee and throwing it on as I chase after her. “Where’s Miranda?” I look between Mikey and Mad Dog. “Did she come through here?”

  Mad Dog throws a meaty thumb over his shoulder. “She’s gone, man. She seemed pissed.”

  “Whatever.” I shrug, nabbing a cigarette from a pack lying on the edge of the pool table. “We have bigger fucking issues to deal with than a pissed fuck buddy.”

  Mad Dog, who’s taking aim at the seven ball, pauses to look at me. “Trouble with the Wolves?”

  “Fucking tons,” I say, exhaling smoke through my nose. “Call Wyndall. We’re officially at war, and Miranda’s not safe on her own in Crescent City.”

  “Um,” Mikey says, drawing my gaze to his. “You just let her leave.”

  “Right.” I nod, internally cursing myself. “Radio Jameson and have him stop her at the gate.”

  Mikey lays his pool stick on the table and grabs the walkie-talkie. “Jameson, do you read me?” He releases the button, and we listen as nothing but silence comes from the radio. “Jameson, this is Michael. I have orders from Enzo.”

  When there’s still no response, I know something’s wrong. Randi’s already left, and there’s no telling what she did to Jameson on her way out. Jesus. I know I pissed her off, but I didn’t think she’d take it out on my guys. They’re her guys too. Her protection from that girl-peddling sicko.

  “Fuck,” I curse, punching a hole into the wall. “Let me suit up, and we’ll go get her.”

  “Stop right there,” a feminine voice demands from behind me. “Put your hands in the air. All of you!” Her voice is wild and erratic, prompting me to do as she says so I’ll have time assess the situation.

  I freeze, my hands lifting slowly, and turn to the voice. My eyes narrow as they take in the slip of a girl standing there with a pistol aimed my way. She looks familiar, but I can’t quite place her. Young, that’s for sure, and angry as fuck.

  “Who the fuck are you?” I bark, hoping to scare the shit out of her. “And how did you get in here?”

  “Of course you don’t remember, asshole,” she sneers, her hands shaking as she fires a shot into the wall to my right. “You ruined my life, killed my boyfriend, and you don’t even remember me.”

  “Shit,” I mumble, wracking my brain.

  I’ve only killed two people since I hit Crescent City, and they were both prospects. Oh no. The young girl with her lips around the prospect’s cock—this is her—only she doesn’t look quite as young as I remember, especially standing there with a fucking gun in her shaky hand.

  “Hold the fuck up,” I say, lowering my voice. “Those guys were about to sell young girls into sex slavery. I saved a lot of lives that night.” I pause, lacing my voice with honey. “I thought I was helping you, too.”

  “You thought wrong.” Tears fill her eyes, and she brings up her other hand to steady the gun. “All Sammy ever wanted was to join the damn Werewolves. I begged him not to, but he wouldn’t listen.” She brings her hands up, still holding the gun, and wipes furiously at her cheeks, prompting me to shrink back when the barrel swings my way. “But it wasn’t them who got him killed, was it?” She doesn’t want me to reply because it certainly fucking was the Werewolves who got him killed. Aiming the gun back toward me, she tightens her finger on the trigger. “You killed h—”

  “Jesus,” I mutter as she slumps to the floor, knocked out from behind with my spare Brain Bucket. “Get her up and tie her to a chair.” I look to Mad Dog before crossing the room to grab Randi up in a tight hug. “Thank fuck,” I breathe against the soft skin of her neck. “I thought you’d already left.”

  “I don’t have a ride. You brought me here, stupid.” She’s still pissed, but apparently not enough to let me die—or at least, let someone else kill me. “Jameson is handcuffed to the fucking gate. You should be glad Lois didn’t enlist Jack to help with her little attack or we’d all be in serious trouble.”

  “What the fuck?” I say, giving her a shake. “Are you saying you think he can fucking take me?”

  “That’s not what I said.” She shrugs me off, crossing her arms. “But I am saying you weren’t prepared for it. Once he finds out what was going on here”—she flicks her fingers between us—“he’s going to be pissed.”

  “Was?” I arch a brow, daring her to stick with that fucking past-tense bullshit. “Are you positive that’s the way you want to frame us right now?”

  “Yeah, I think so.” She’s still pissy, which makes her doubly hot. She leans forward and speaks in a low, sexy purr. “Until you make me come, that is.”

  Fucking hell.

  “Well that’ll take a goddamn minute,” I growl, pissed that my cock twitched at her words. “I have an interrogation to conduct.”

  She rolls her eyes. “It’s a waste of time. I can tell you all about her. Her name is Lois Rochester, and she’s sixteen years old. Her boyfriend, a nineteen-year-old prospect named Sammy Iver, was killed in the attack on the auction.”

  “I know. I snapped his fucking neck.” I ball my fists, still angry over the idea of grown men selling little girls, even though I was mistaken about who this Lois was. “She still might have valuable information.”

  “She’s just a girl, Enzo,” Randi counters, following me as I try to walk away. “If you torture her, it doesn’t make you any better than the men who would sell young girls like her.”

  I spin on her, pissed that she makes a valid point. “What the fuck would you have me do, then?”

  She wears a devious, sexy smile. “Let me question her.”

  I look for any signs that she’s bluffing, and I see none. It’s more like she’s chomping at the bit for me to say yes. “Fine,” I growl, the idea of her interrogating this chick making me hard. “And I’ll observe. You know, to make sure you ask the right questions and shit.”

  “Just one more thing,” she says, lifting up on her toes and bringing her lips to my ear. “Only after you make me come.”

  Motherfucker.

  How’s a guy supposed to resist that?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Nothing New

  Randi

  “Lois, you ha
ve to know by now that he’s dangerous,” I say gently, pulling my chair closer to hers. “We’ve always been friends, but he threatened my life earlier today.”

  A low growl comes from against the far wall, and I glare at that stupid motherfucker. It’s bad enough he’s in here at all since Lois thinks he’s the spawn of Satan, but acting like an asshole is only making matters worse. She tenses every time he reminds her he’s in the room.

  “Jack isn’t perfect, but he’s the one who killed my Sammy.” She slings her head toward Enzo and fights to point at him, but her hands are restrained too tightly.

  “I know,” I soothe, hoping I can make her understand. “He’s a fucking dick, but he meant well.”

  “I got your goddamn dick,” Enzo says, grabbing his considerable package.

  I take a deep breath and stand, dragging him into the hall. “What in the fuck are you doing? Don’t you understand she’s not going to give us anything as long as she sees you as the enemy?”

  “Is that what I am to you, Randi?”

  He’s being an irrational idiot, so I push him against the nearest wall and press my urgent lips to his. He’s so fucking sexy yet so macho-clueless at the same time. He’s a wanna-be manly asshole who can’t just shut the fuck up and let me do my thing.

  Petulant motherfucker.

  And hot—so fucking hot.

  I pull away, breathing heavily because the man is masterful with his mouth. “Don’t you understand how important it is that I get through to her? If she goes back and tells Jack about us …” I trail off, shaking my head. That’s Enzo’s wet dream come to life. “Never mind.”

  I go to move away, hurt that he wants to achieve such a dangerous goal, but he holds me in place with his strong tanned hands. “You’re right.”

  “Really?” I lift a skeptical brow.

  “Yes, really.” He leans down and presses his soft lips to mine for a simple peck. It’s a first and it feels strange, but I think it might be a good strange. “Do you think you can talk her into leaving town? Then she wouldn’t be around to tell that fuckwit shit.”