Chance: The Wild Ones (Jokers MC Book 4)

by Jessie Cooke

  Poppy’s eyes leaked tears and one of her hands gripped his butt cheeks, and the other one lay on top of her own pussy, trying to calm the pulsing of her own throbbing clit. Gray was grunting, groaning, cursing, and pulling her hair so hard that she worried he might take it out by the roots. There was a fine line between pain and pleasure though, and he knew exactly how much to apply. It only served to make her hornier, wilder, more desperate to have him inside of her.

  Gray let go of her hair and took a small step back before leaning down. His lips were on her breasts, sucking her nipples into his mouth, biting at them and causing her to arch her back and lift her body up off the bed. She grabbed the back of his head, twisted his hair around her fingers, and pressed his face hard against her. Gray didn’t need guidance though. The way he sucked, bit, licked, and sucked on her breasts made her feel like she was being consumed by fire. She was making a lot of noise, but she didn’t care. She would have gladly gone out onto the veranda with him, naked and exposed to the entire Quarter, at that moment. His touch felt too good; her body, her mind, and her soul were consumed by him, and at that point, there was no turning back.

  “Gray,” she gasped. “I need you, inside of me, now...”

  She felt him smile into her flesh, but he only paused for a second, before his mouth was moving again. He kissed his way down from her breasts to her abdomen, and he took his time, slowly exploring every inch of her skin as he moved ever downward. She was so aroused that it was almost a shock to her system when his tongue slid across her clit. “Oh Jesus...” she gasped, when he buried his body between her legs and began to suck on her lips, moaning his own approval while he did.

  He used his tongue, his teeth, his lips, and his fingers to increase her arousal to a point where she thought that her body couldn’t take it for another second. She was lost in him, and how he was making her feel. Every moment, every second, every kiss...lick, nibble...it was all that mattered to her, all she wanted from that moment on to the rest of her life. He devoured her for what seemed to take forever, until she had her first orgasm all over his lips. Her body was still quivering when she pressed her hands against his face and pulled him up, sitting up herself so that she could reach his lips. They kissed and he worked his way back up onto the bed. She loved the way the weight of his body felt on top of her, and she spread her legs wide open, lifted them up, and wrapped them around his waist. Gray entered her, quickly and easily thanks to how ready she was. They both gasped, loudly, and Gray held himself inside of her while he grasped one of her breasts in his hand and held it tightly while he made love to her...five years of need was released between them, and it was explosive. Poppy had heard about people seeing fireworks in their head, but she’d never experienced it before. She could see them, hear them, and practically feel them exploding across every synapse in her brain. It was just about at the time she had her second orgasm, and Gray was having one of his own, that she realized it wasn’t a crush. It was love, and it had never died. She loved him, and she hated herself for it.

  10

  One Week Later

  “Where is Riley?” Blackheart walked into the room in the abandoned-looking office building behind Chance and Le Singe, and once he’d had a look around his blue eyes’ gaze landed on the face of a man named Patrick Murphy.

  “He had an emergency he had to deal with...”

  “Let’s go,” Blackheart told his men. They turned and followed him out the door that they’d just walked into, with Patrick on their heels.

  “He’s authorized me to speak with you about...”

  “I don’t care if the president of the United States has authorized you. I’ve told your boss more than once: he is the only one I’ll do business with.”

  “He has such a busy schedule,” Patrick said, with a hint of desperation in his voice.

  “Well then, we won’t bother him again.” Blackheart was already standing next to his bike and pulling on his gloves. This would be the second time they had a meeting with the Green Sons that their leader Deacon Riley had failed to show up for. Chance knew his president well, and he knew that Blackheart had no respect for a man who didn’t keep his word. He’d given Riley the benefit of the doubt the first time he’d blown them off, and for the impatient MC president, that was saying a lot.

  “Please,” Patrick said, not trying to hide his desperation any longer. Chance had heard things about Riley, and all of them explained the fear in his second in command’s eyes at that moment. “Can you wait five minutes and let me call him?”

  “He knew about this meeting, right?” Blackheart asked.

  “Yes...but...”

  Blackheart looked at Le Singe and said, “Let’s go.” Le Singe motioned at the other men, Chance, Le Pirate, Grayson, Gabe, and two prospects who had ridden out with them, their introduction to one of the Jokers’ business meetings. They all got on their bikes and with Patrick Murphy on his cell phone and looking even more fearful, they drove away, and none of the Jokers looked back. Anyone who knew Blackheart knew that he didn’t issue empty threats; their “relationship” with the Green Sons was over before it started. The crew had been excited about the offer Deacon Riley had put out there because not only would it mean a significant raise in their pay, but because as of late, they hadn’t had a lot of chance to escape the parish. The job escorting the Green Sons would give them the opportunity to see the countryside, or at least the southeastern portion of it. What they knew about the sons was minimal at best, but they did know that the small faction of the Irish IRA handled much of the illegal gun trade along the eastern and southern seaboards of the United States. Their leader Deacon Riley was mysterious, and according to rumor, at least, was extremely wealthy. The success of the Sons had garnered them attention not only from law enforcement agencies but criminal enterprises as well...and Deacon himself had been the one to reach out to Blackheart to talk about the security detail for what he called his “land crew.” Chance had been in on all the meetings and he’d seen the energy around that offer go from high and excited to what it was today...tired and pissed off about an eight-and-a-half-hour round trip of wasted time. Chance and all the guys knew Blackheart would be in a foul mood, not just when they got back to the club but probably for days afterward. Chance had been dying to ask him for the past week if the investigator had come up with anything new on Bubba, but each time he tried, something else had come up. Now he knew better than to ask...he’d just have to be patient himself and wait for Blackheart to come to him.

  The night before he’d talked to Sharon about it, and she had done her best to reassure him that Blackheart would tell him when or if he’d found something. He believed that, and normally he wouldn’t have had any problem being patient, but the closer they got to reaching Poppy’s deadline the more worried Chance became. His sister was unpredictable, and he wasn’t sure what she’d do when the two weeks passed and Blackheart didn’t come up with anything, but he worried it would be something that would either get her into trouble, or him. In the past she’d come and gone after making a lot of noise...but Chance got the feeling from her that this time was different. He wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that Bubba’s sixteenth birthday was rapidly approaching, and sixteen had been the age Poppy was when everything had gone south.

  He did have to give Poppy credit for how well she had done over the past week, however. After their meeting with Blackheart he’d only seen her twice, and both times had been at the hospital. She’d gone to visit her nephew, and the little time Chance had spent with her seemed almost like old times. She wasn’t hounding him any longer about what she thought he might know about Bubba’s disappearance and their conversations were coming more easily, just like they had when the two of them were growing up, and each was the only one the other had to talk to. Sharon liked her a lot too, and the two women talked about the family’s visiting Poppy in California once Sharon and the baby were able to travel. Poppy had a lot of questions about the twins and as Chance listene
d to Sharon talk to her about things that might hint at what kind of father he was, he saw an almost imperceptible change in his sister’s demeanor. They had made plans for a barbecue over the weekend when Chance had the twins so she could meet them. It was all encouraging, and what he told himself to concentrate on rather than the “what if’s” that had plagued him since his sister got back to town.

  The men rode hard on the way home for the first two and a half hours, finally stopping in Beatrice, Mississippi, the halfway point between Alabama and home. Grayson had fixed the fuel pump on Chance’s chopper and it was back to running well. Chance loved his bike and although the meeting with the Sons had been a bust, he was still happy just for the chance to spend the day riding it.

  The men all gassed up their bikes at the little minimart/gas-station, relieved themselves, and then filed into the burger joint that was attached to get fuel for their bodies. Chance grabbed his order from the burger stand and as he walked back outside, Grayson was walking away from the door, his back to him, and his cell phone pressed to his ear. Chance would have never thought anything of it except that something Gray said sounded out of character, and piqued his interest...

  “We had a change of plans. I’ll be back around dinner time; you want to go out tonight?” Chance wouldn’t normally have been so interested in someone making plans for a date, but Grayson was different than most. He bragged a lot about the women he had sex with...most of them worked in the clubs or bars the Jokers owned...but Chance had never known of him to go out on an actual date with any of them. Grayson was walking as he talked, and Chance should have turned and went back toward his bike, but something in his gut urged him to listen to the rest of the conversation, so he slowly, and quietly followed behind him. Gray listened into the phone for several seconds before laughing and saying, “Okay, I get it, you only want me for my body. I’m wounded.” He laughed again and another few seconds passed before he said, “No, baby, I’m not complaining. I’ll see you around eight or so, maybe closer to nine.” Chance started to turn away then so Gray wouldn’t catch him eavesdropping, but Gray’s next words set off a spark inside Chance that had been burning quietly in the pit of his stomach for over five years, ever since the day he finally found out that Grayson had been the one who helped Poppy leave that night...his friend, who was way too old for his sister, and who had never said a word even though he knew how worried Chance had been. “Hey, Poppy...I know you don’t want to hear this, but I still love you.” Gray spun around as soon as he felt Chance’s hand on his shoulder. As soon as he did, Chance pulled back his right fist and threw a punch. It caught Grayson in the jaw and the other man stumbled backwards and dropped the phone at his feet. The sound that came out of it only pissed Chance off that much more. It was his sister’s voice:

  “Gray? What happened? Gray? Are you still there?”

  Poppy leaving home had been the beginning of everything falling apart. Their life was shit, but they’d always had each other. Within a few months Chance lost everything. It was weeks after Poppy left before he even knew where his sister had gone. Poppy sent him and Bubba a letter. It was three pages long and told them how much she missed them. In the letter she asked him to take care of their little brother, and said she wanted him to bring Bubba out to California as soon as Chance turned eighteen and could take custody of him. The rest of the letter talked about her getting a job at a restaurant in a town called Irvine, and she talked about how good it felt to be free at last. He wrote back, telling her how much it hurt him that she’d left, and that she hadn’t talked to him about it first. But that was the last communication they had until after he killed their stepfather. He didn’t even contact her about that right away; it wasn’t until Bubba was gone that he was forced to call her and admit to everything that had happened. Poppy flew home right away. Chance never knew where she got the money to do that, but they had much more pressing matters to worry about. He knew the second he saw the pain and accusation in her green eyes that their relationship was never going to be the same.

  It was during that visit home that he finally found out Grayson was the one who had helped her leave. Chance had tracked him down, and maybe he would have done something he would have strongly regretted...but Blackheart had been close by, and although neither young man had become a “hang around” with the club yet, they both heeded the older man’s order to “stop acting like rabid animals,” when he’d spotted them rolling around in the dirt, throwing punches. Blackheart probably saved Chance a long jail sentence, and in the end, he’d given him something he’d never had before...something to look forward to. He’d invited both Chance and Grayson to think about prospecting for his club that day, and Chance had finally found the family he’d been looking for his entire life. Grayson had his own reasons for looking for somewhere to belong and since that day Blackheart had watched the two of them closely. Chance had finally, over the past two years or so, begun to let go of some of the hate he’d carried in his heart for Grayson, telling himself that none of that mess was the other man’s fault. But hearing him tell Poppy he loved her, on top of everything else that was going on, just brought everything rushing back, and he saw red.

  11

  “She was abused by an older man when she was just a little girl! You think she needs more of that from you?” Blackheart and Le Singe had pulled Chance and Gray apart in that parking lot in Mississippi. Blackheart hadn’t said a word aloud, but his blue eyes said plenty. Le Singe, who didn’t care much for any of the younger guys in the first place, barked at them both to get on their bikes. Chance saw Gray send a text before he got onto his. He was sure it was to Poppy, and he was sure in the end that he would be the one she was pissed off at. The rest of the ride, more than two hours of it, did nothing to calm him down. It only gave him more time to think of all the reasons that Gray needed to leave his sister alone.

  In Blackheart’s office Gray picked up the argument that had started in Mississippi. “I’m only four years older than her, and I’m not abusing her. Everything between us has been consensual.”

  “And a week ago you were fucking every piece of tail that wagged it in front of you.”

  “So? You were a virgin when you met your old lady?”

  “Poppy is not, and never will be, your old lady!”

  “Okay,” Blackheart said, almost scary soft, “that’s enough. Gray, go home and clean yourself up. Chance, you and I need to talk.”

  Gray stood up and glared down at Chance. One of his eyes was purple and blood was dried around his nose and across his chin. Some of it had dripped down onto his t-shirt, which was stained black from the asphalt they’d rolled around on when they fought. Chance hadn’t gotten a good look at his own face, but he was sure even if he had a black eye or two, he had still won the fight. Gray walked out of the room as he was told, but the atmosphere in the office was still icy. Blackheart took a breath before saying:

  “I can’t have a SA who can’t keep his cool and handle his own family shit without coming to blows with other brothers in the club.”

  “It was him...” Blackheart’s glare intensified, and knowing he was about to overstep, Chance dialed back and said, “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’ll deal with Poppy and Gray on my own time.”

  “What makes you think it’s your business to deal with?”

  “You know what she went through,” Chance said. He’d told Blackheart himself years before, trying to explain some of the craziness that followed Poppy every time she had come back to town. “Gray is a dog. He’s been with five different women this month alone...that I know of...”

  “And before Sharon...how many women did you fuck in a month?”

  “This is different. My sister is vulnerable. She might be twenty-one physically but emotionally I don’t think she ever got past those teenage years when she was being abused.”

  “And is Sharon past the trauma she went through recently?” Chance didn’t answer that, mostly because he knew it was rhetorical. Their most recent pro
blems proved that Sharon still had a lot of healing to do. Chance wasn’t sure the two were the same however, but he knew it was pointless to argue with his president. Blackheart wasn’t finished however, and he went on to say, “Regardless, Poppy is twenty-one years old and Gray is twenty-five. Their relationship, whatever it is, is theirs and theirs alone.” Chance started to open his mouth again and Blackheart held up his hand to stop him. “Do you think that I was happy when Gabriel and my daughter got together? You think I liked thinking about that boy touching my daughter?” Chance had been the first one to tease his friend about how much Blackheart’s daughter, Patrice, looked like her old man. Chance thought she was gorgeous, but he was sure he couldn’t ever have sex with someone who had their president’s face. Gabe had gotten past that, somehow, maybe because he loved her. Still, Chance wasn’t convinced that was the same thing either. Maybe he just couldn’t see it since it wasn’t his problem to worry about, and Poppy was. What he knew for sure was that he had failed to protect his sister when they were kids. He didn’t want to fail again. But Blackheart was right, and he needed to work on keeping his family problems separate from the club. He didn’t want to risk losing his position in the club; it meant too much to him.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not sure, Chance, that you were ready for the amount of responsibility that SA patch brings with it. The other executives are questioning it as well.”

  Chance felt sick to his stomach. Other than Sharon and the kids, he loved nothing more than that SA patch he wore on his chest. He swallowed the lump in his throat and said, “Please, Prez...I was stupid today, I’m really sorry. So much shit has been going on...”

  “I get it. We all have our own shit to deal with. But I have to put you on notice here…deal with your own shit on your own time and be wiser about it. What kind of respect is an SA who can’t keep his temper in check going to garner from the rest of the club, or other clubs?”