A Dirty Lion

by Faye Byrd

Every molecule in my body contracts and then expands within a single second as his words rattle around in my dumbfounded brain. He loves me. Enzo Stone loves me. The president of the Dirty Lions loves me.

  Me.

  I wonder how I feel about that. Do I love him back? I know I like him, a fucking lot, but do I love him? I feel complete right now because he’s here, because he saved me, but is that love?

  “Randi,” Enzo says sternly, shaking my shoulders. “Are you listening?”

  “Yeah,” I mutter, coming out of my self-imposed trance. “I heard you.” I’m so fucking confused I’m afraid to meet his eyes.

  His chuckle changes that, though, and I snap my gaze to his. “Not that, babe.” He presses a quick kiss to my lips. “Take your time to work through it. Later. Right now, we have someone to squeeze for answers.”

  The grunt from behind me brings everything back into focus, and I turn, locking eyes with Stevie. I smirk as I lean down to speak into his ear. “You want me to tell my Lion about your threat to fucking kill me?”

  “Please, Ran,” he whines like the pathetic little follower he is. “He’ll kill me.”

  “Maybe not. If you tell him what he wants to know,” I say, batting my lashes innocently. “Give up Jackson and you might be able to save yourself.”

  His face screws up into a rage-induced sneer. “Never,” he growls, and it turns into a howl when Enzo digs the heel of his boot into the bullet wound on his thigh. “Don’t come out, Jack! They’ll never find you!”

  I’m pulled back by Bob as Enzo’s buff form poises over Stevie and grips his hair in one fist while drawing the other back. Brass knuckles glint as he swings. The first hit splits open his cheek.

  “Where’s Jackson?” Enzo presses his thumbs into Stevie’s eyes so hard that screams fill the air, but none of them contain the answers my Lion wants to hear. “Fuck this piece of shit,” he growls, drawing back his fist and slamming it into him over and over. Flesh rips and blood spatters. The violence of the attack makes me wet, and I clench my thighs to ease some of the mounting pressure.

  When there’s nothing but a bloody stump attached to Stevie’s neck, Enzo stands and pulls his gun from his waistband. With one squeeze of the trigger, bullets fly out in quick succession. Blood blooms on Stevie’s shirt as his heart pumps its final beats. I feel nothing as I watch his life leave his body.

  Enzo tosses the brass knuckles on top of Stevie’s dead body. Bob pulls off a button-up, leaving him in just a white undershirt, and passes it to my Lion. Enzo uses the shirt to wipe the blood from his hands before also tossing it to the floor.

  “Jackson’s hidden,” Enzo says, tilting his head toward the large open space at the front of the building. “Let’s trap this fucking rat.”

  My rifle is still against the wall, but Enzo shoves his black mini machine gun into my hands and takes the stronger weapon for himself. “This is easier to handle and every bit as effective.” He pushes my ratty hair behind my ear and lowers his voice. “I need you to be careful, Randi. Nothing can happen to you.”

  “I promise.” I nod once. “I’m not ready to die.” He kisses me like it’s the last time he’ll ever have the chance, and when he pulls away, I’m lightheaded and breathless. “Fuck yes!” I say, reinvigorated. “No way am I leaving that behind, and you better not leave me.”

  He smirks. “There’s not a motherfucker in this building with the skills required to take me out.”

  “All right,” Bob says, clapping him on the shoulder as he passes. “We all know you’re a bad motherfucker. Now let’s get this Wolf president so we can get out of here.”

  Tank and Bob take the lead as we move into the large open space. It’s partially divided into areas, with a stove and refrigerator along one wall and a seating area behind a half-wall, but most of it’s like a messy, scattered game room. It smells musty and dirty with dishes stacked in the sink—nothing like the Lion clubhouse.

  Our footfalls are silent as we creep through the space, the front two guys checking every crevice. By the time we work into the second half, the hiding places have become non-existent. The front door is in clear view, and there’s been no sign of Jackson.

  Enzo holds up a hand and places a finger over his lips, his expression intense. His eyes narrow and he bounces slightly. The wooden floor creaks beneath his boot. He looks to Tank and Bob before pointing down, but they don’t get a chance to check that shit out because all hell breaks loose.

  Bullets fly through the floor, one lodging in Tank’s shin, which sends him to his knees. Bob drags him by the arm out of the line of fire as we all duck for cover. Enzo aims my rifle toward the floor and fires. He holds the trigger until the gun is empty before throwing it to the floor and catching the handgun Bob tosses his way.

  “Hold your fire!” Jackson screams from somewhere beneath us. “I’m unarmed.”

  Enzo grabs a toaster from the counter and tosses it in the general area of Jack’s voice. Bullets erupt again, and Enzo returns fire, but only three shots. “This is your last fucking chance. Come out or consider that your final resting place.”

  “Fuck you!” Jack screams, opening fire again.

  Enzo shakes his head, the bullets landing nowhere near us. He looks to me and then down to the sleek black gun in my hands. “This is all you, babe.”

  Rage flows through me, and I explode from my hidden position. The firing has stopped, and I zero in on where his voice came from. I release all my pent-up hate and anger in a spray of bullets, but I don’t empty my gun. I need to see his face. Charging forward, I use the butt and bash it into the floor, opening a small hole.

  Enzo pulls me to my feet and uses his boot to kick away the wood until I see him. Jackson lies there injured and bleeding in a grave of his own making. Dirt surrounds him in the small hole that’s been dug beneath the wood, his long legs unable to stretch out in the puny hiding spot. His breaths are strangled by blood as he spits and coughs.

  Again, I feel nothing.

  “Burn in hell, motherfucker,” I say as I lift the gun.

  “Hold up, babe,” Enzo says, standing at my side. “Why don’t we let him burn?” He turns to me, waving his arms to the space around us. “This motherfucker is gonna be wired and blown to hell. Can you imagine a fiery death trapped in a dirty, dank hole as the metal above you melts and burns you from the outside in?”

  Hatred flares inside me as I weigh my options. My finger twitches toward the trigger, but the image of him screaming as fire engulfs the building and slowly melts the skin from his body is too good to pass up. I aim the gun and his eyes widen. Three bullets erupt before I can release the trigger, and they fill his legs with lead. I turn away, disgusted.

  “Let’s go.”

  “Wire this motherfucker.” Enzo points to Bob. “Mikey, get Rodney and Justice in here. Tank took a hit.”

  My sexy Lion takes my hand, pulling me away from the carnage and out into the bright sunshine. I pass my dad at the door and give him a hug like I haven’t done since I was a little girl. I can’t help it. My whole world is suddenly right, and exhilaration pumps through my veins.

  Enzo props against my father’s car and opens his arms. I fall into them and bury my face in his chest, breathing in the scent that’s become the most important thing in my world. I’m not sure how long I stay there, silent, though my mind is running a million miles a fucking minute as I bask in him. However long it is, the next thing I know, we’re surrounded by everyone else.

  “I got this, Sheriff,” Deputy Marcus says, his shoulder half-assed bandaged. “You take Miss Tanner’s car and get out of here. Enzo can blow the place from up on the ridge.”

  “I don’t know,” my dad says, hesitant. “I never meant to get you involved in this mess. I’d hate for you to take the fall with the Pacific Shores police department.”

  “Better me than you.” Deputy Marcus places his hand on my dad’s shoulder and guides him toward Rhonda’s car. “I have an idea.”

  The two have a few mo
re words before my dad looks over and nods. “I guess I’m leaving.”

  “Works for me,” Enzo says as we approach. “Since we have two down, you can drop us at the box truck, and we’ll trigger the explosion before hightailing it the fuck out of here.”

  Rodney tilts his head to the car, and we all pile inside. Bob gets in the back seat with the two injured men. Justice hops onto the trunk, and Enzo gets into the passenger seat and pats the empty spot between his thick, sexy thighs.

  Everything tingles as I settle against him.

  Something rock-solid pokes me in the ass, and Enzo shifts us by lifting me to settle right on top of it. The ride goes by way too fucking quickly, and we pull to a stop just as I’m getting worked up over it. I whine as I climb from his lap.

  Enzo catches me by the arm and leans close, his voice low and sexy. “I owe you an apology for allowing this shit to happen, and what better way to give it than with orgasms?” I almost do a girly squeal right there among all the tough biker dudes and my dad, but I refrain—just fucking barely. “As many orgasms as you want, babe.”

  I do moan just a little as I nod furiously. “Please.”

  “Hop inside.” He chuckles his sexy Lion chuckle and squeezes my ass as he guides me to the passenger side of the box truck Justice just pulled from the weeds. “This won’t take but a second.”

  I do as I’m told, while Justice helps Jameson and Tank into the back. I can see my father in the side mirror. Rhonda’s car is pulled in right behind us. Enzo and Bob stand on the ridge overlooking the Wolf clubhouse for only a beat before a boom rocks the ground and smoke rises to fill the air. The driver’s door flies open, and Enzo jumps inside, slamming the shifter into drive and spinning the tires. We shag ass out of Pacific Shores with my father hot on our heels.

  We make it to the 101 in no time at all, and the look in Enzo’s eye as he glances my way sends chills racing over my skin. The Werewolves are no longer a threat to me or Crescent City, my dad has put down the bottle, and the president of the Lions is in love with me. Even better, I think I’m okay with that.

  Everything is finally perfect.

  Until the sound of tires squealing behind us draws my eyes to the huge rectangular mirror on the side of the truck. We’re mid-curve, and the rear end of Rhonda’s car is swerving side to side as Rodney fights like fucking hell with the steering wheel. Enzo sees his distress and slows our truck, but it’s no fucking use.

  My dad careens off the road and flips down a deep embankment.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The End

  Enzo

  I wake with a rock hard cock—which isn’t unusual when Randi’s near—but what is unusual is the feeling of something lapping at it like a fucking lollipop. My brows furrow as I lift the sheet to find her with the base in one hand and her tongue making short licking strokes like some kind of fucking dog.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” I mumble, tossing the sheet off her head.

  She stops and sits back on her knees, glaring. “What the fuck did it look like? I was working myself up to put it in my mouth.”

  My cock twitches at the idea, but I know Randi, and she’s never done this before. I grab her arm and tug, bringing her naked body tumbling down on top of me. She’s as beautiful as ever, even with her swollen eye and bruises marring her creamy skin.

  “You don’t have to do that right now, babe,” I murmur, running my fingertips over the nasty bruise on her side. “We have all the time in the world, and you happen to have the tightest, wettest, best pussy ever. I’ll take that over head any day.”

  She snorts, kissing me soundly. “Good, because it really wasn’t doing anything for me.”

  I widen my eyes to comical proportions. “Are you telling me the taste of my cock wasn’t turning you on?”

  She giggles, and the sound is music to my ears. After the events of yesterday, it feels so fucking good to have her safe in my arms. Everyone is safe. We all made it out with our lives, even the sheriff, though he’s in a medically induced coma to allow the swelling around his brain to lessen.

  “Your naked body is always a turn-on,” she whispers, tugging the ring in my nipple with her teeth.

  I groan, cupping her ass and grinding her against me. “Jesus, babe. Are you gonna ride my cock this morning?”

  She doesn’t verbally respond, instead choosing to sit up. Her thighs tighten around my hips and her wet pussy slides against my cock. She slings her head back, and her long waves ghost the tops of my thighs. I’m in heaven and hell at the same time.

  She leans forward, anchoring her hands on my shoulders, and her hair creates a wall around us. “I’m on the pill.”

  “You wanna …” I stare at her blankly, swallowing heavily as the words sink in. “No condom?”

  She just smiles as she lifts her hips and sinks down on my cock. Her tight pussy surrounding me with no barrier is like nothing I’ve ever felt—literally. I don’t do this shit, but I trust this woman with my life, and I intend to make my life ours.

  Our hips thrust and our tongues tangle. Our bodies were made for this dance, and I can say with certainty that hers was made specifically for me. I don’t last as long as usual, the feel of her flesh to my flesh too much to handle.

  I erupt with one strangled word. “Randi.”

  She collapses on top of me, and I brush my fingers through her hair. “That isn’t the way this is supposed to go, babe. I owe you orgasms, not the other way around.”

  She giggles but doesn’t otherwise move. “Giving you an orgasm is almost as pleasurable as receiving one.”

  In one smooth move, I flip her beneath me and stare down into her hungry eyes. “Let me make it up to you.” I flatten my tongue against her pulse point, reveling in the quickening thump. “I love you, Miranda,” I murmur, running my lips across the soft skin of her neck. “I intend to worship every fucking part of you.”

  She sighs, and I take advantage, plunging my tongue inside and twirling it with hers. My cock thickens, and need pulses through my veins. I break the kiss, my eyes intent on hers as I lift and fist my cock. Entering her unsheathed is reminiscent of riding my Harley.

  I’m wild and free, unbound by the rules that tether me to this earth. I’m flying, burning rubber on the asphalt, and stretching it out on the open road. I ride her like never before, driving her to heights previously unimagined.

  “Come on, babe,” I grunt when I feel her on the brink. “Clamp that tight pussy on my cock.”

  She angles her hips, her claws digging into my shoulders. “There,” she cries, her mouth falling open.

  I pivot like a mad man, maintaining pace until the first flutters hit. She tightens her legs, her heels digging into my ass as I drive into her over and over. Her walls tighten, spasming against my cock, and I grit my teeth, holding back so I can rock her motherfucking world.

  When her hold loosens and she’s only a mass of pliant flesh beneath me, I give in to the ecstasy that courses through my veins. I release into her with a growl, and instead of pulling away like the first time I had her, I settle half on her side and bury my face between her tits.

  “You’re right,” she says, sighing in pure fucking pleasure. “Making you come is nowhere near as good as you making me come.”

  I chuckle, rubbing my scruff against her perky tit. “Don’t you fucking forget it.”

  She tangles her fist in my hair and tugs, bringing my lips up to hers. “Never again.”

  She plunders my mouth, causing my cock to twitch to life again before releasing me and sitting up. “As much as I hate it, we need to get up.”

  “It’s still too early to see Rodney,” I comment as she climbs off the bed.

  “I know.” She grabs some clothes, and I watch as her delectable ass disappears into the bathroom.

  I prop my hands beneath my head and stare at where she just disappeared, lost in thoughts of how totally fucking hot she is and how extremely lucky I am to have nabbed her. It’s like fucking fate stepped in
and handed her to me at a time when she needed me most. And don’t get me wrong. I need her too, but it isn’t in the same way. She completes me. She is me. In female form.

  Randi’s naked form appears through the en suite door, scrubbing a towel through her hair. Just as I focus in on her bouncy tits, she tosses the towel and throws one of my tees over her head, hiding them from my prying view.

  “Get your ass up,” she says, looking at me like I’m some kind of lazy fucker. “I want to spend some time with Marianne, get to know her better.”

  “Really?” I join her, pulling on a pair of basketball shorts and a tank. “That’s not like you.”

  She narrows her eyes my way as she tugs a pair of leggings up her shapely legs. “She’s practically your mom. Of course I want to see what makes her tick.”

  “Don’t be a hard-ass.” I chuckle, knowing my girl. “She’s a cool woman, and I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for her and Bob.”

  “Aw, isn’t that sweet?” she teases, poking fun at my rare softness.

  I grab my chest. “You wound me.”

  She takes a step that brings her up against me and lifts to her tiptoes. “There are other things I’d rather do.” She drops back down, licking her lips as she studies my biceps.

  I groan, flexing my muscles to make her suffer as much as I am. “I thought we were getting dressed, but if you’d rather ...” I pause and grip the hem of my tank. “I’m fucking game.”

  She hesitates for only a beat before grabbing my hands to stop me from pulling it back over my head. “No … we shouldn’t.” She wavers, her eyes glancing to the clock. “No. I need to get to the hospital soon.”

  “Done,” I say, gripping her nape and leaning down for a searing kiss. “Let’s go see what’s for breakfast.”

  I take her hand and lead her to the front of the clubhouse. I’m not surprised to see Marianne by the stove, cooking away. I am surprised to see Layla working right beside her with Mikey already in front of his laptop at the table.

  “Morning,” I murmur as I take a seat. “This is a little fucking early for your taste, isn’t it?”