Savage Kings MC Box Set 1

by Lane Hart

  Chapter Eight

  Abe

  It’s early in the afternoon, so the basement level of the clubhouse is pretty empty.

  Since no one’s in the chapel — Torin, because he’s back to his house grieving, and Chase, because he’s probably at home with his old lady — I head inside and grab one of the secure laptops sitting on the bookshelf at the back of the room that all of us can use whenever we need. They’re handy because none of us carry smartphones. Those bastards are an outlaw’s worst enemy. That means, if I need to do some internet research, I have to break out a laptop.

  Taking it to my room, I sit down in the chair at the wooden desk and clear a spot in all the random pieces of junk to make room for the computer, then I fire it up.

  What am I so intent on searching today?

  Birth control.

  Crazy, right? I nearly get shot and killed, but all I’ve been obsessing about is what I did yesterday with Mercy. I mean, it wasn’t just the amazing sex, but I’m still freaking out about coming inside of her. And it’s not just that I’m worried there’s a possibility I knocked her up, it’s this strange other emotion that’s been trying to bust free from my gut – one that hopes I did. I’m losing my fucking mind, obviously. I busted my first nut while being inside a pussy without a barrier, and now I’ve lost my shit because of it.

  Why didn’t anyone tell me how good going bareback is? Is that why people have kids? Because the sex is so mind-blowing that raising a snotty-nosed child for eighteen years is worth the few moments of heaven on Earth? That must be it and would explain why my mother had me and Gabe since she wasn’t the maternal type at all.

  Anyway, I intend to find out just how effective that birth control shot thing is that Mercy uses to see what the chances are that I’ve fucked myself over. After everything that happened last night, I know I shouldn’t want more of this woman in my life, but I can’t let it be because of some fucked-up child situation. My brother and I are all the proof I need that some people shouldn’t have kids.

  It takes me longer than it should for my thick fingers to peck out the few words in the search engine before the site brings up the answer in the very first article. The shot is apparently more than ninety-nine percent effective at preventing pregnancy when administered correctly.

  Whew. Great. Awesome.

  That means there’s less than a one percent chance that I put a baby in Mercy. So if I fucked her a hundred times, only one of those could make it happen. That’s a relief.

  I think.

  My eyes continue to scan the article, and I see shit like ninety-four percent successful if the shot is not administered correctly and possibly less if the woman falls behind on her shot dates.

  Oh shit.

  When was Mercy’s last shot? Does she get them when she’s supposed to? What if she forgot? If she did, there could be a six-percent chance that a mini-Abe is on the way. That’s still a small chance, right?

  “Someone tired of using condoms?”

  I startle and nearly reach for the gun I keep mounted under the desk when dumbass Dalton opens his mouth from right behind me.

  “Are you trying to get that pretty boy face of yours blown off?” I ask him before slamming the laptop lid closed.

  “Just to warn you, you can still get the clap and all that other shit if she’s on the shot,” he says, ignoring my threat.

  “You would know that from experience, right?” I turn around and ask him.

  “Only sharing the facts,” he says with a shrug and a smirk. “But I will say that sweet, wet pussy isn’t worth the price of the meds.”

  Shaking my head, I grumble, “What do you want?”

  “Checking in on you after you took that bullet yesterday. So, why the research?” he asks, the asshole unable to take a hint.

  “None of your business,” I mutter as I get to my feet and shove past him to head upstairs. I’m still not one-hundred percent sure that Dalton isn’t the rat in our club. He kicked ass at that Aces’ bar last night right alongside the rest of us. Was that all just an act? I hate doubting one of my brothers, but Chase is certain that someone was reporting shit back to Hector Cruz, and his reasoning makes sense. Guess only time will tell who is loyal and who is not.

  With that asshat reminding me of STDs, I figure I better go and get tested. Not because I’m worried that Mercy gave me something, but to make sure she’s protected from me. I’ve always used condoms in the past, but what if something slipped through the cracks? Mercy trusted me, so I want to make sure that I’m safe for her.

  Sure, it’s painful to have the swab shoved up your dick hole, but it’s worth it for me to know in a few days that I’m free and clear. It’s been a year since my last checkup, so better safe than sorry.

  I’ve just stepped out of the clinic a couple of hours later when my phone rings. Only my brothers have this burner phone’s number, so I know it’s important. Seeing that it’s Chase calling, I don’t let it ring again before I answer.

  “What’s up, brother?” I ask.

  “Can you come over to the house?” he asks, and I can tell by the tone of his voice that’s he’s annoyed.

  “Sure. Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, Mercy’s here,” he says, and my entire body lights up like it’s Christmas at the thought of seeing her again, especially my cock.

  Was it just yesterday that I ate her out for an hour and then she rode me on her living room floor? Hell, I guess it was, but it seems like longer.

  Chase doesn’t need to tell me anything else. I end the call, strap on my helmet, and take off down the road on my bike, planning to get to Chase and Sasha’s place in record-breaking time.

  …

  Mercy

  “So you and Abe did the nasty?” Sasha turns to me and asks with a grin after she drags me upstairs to the bedroom I assume she shares with Chase, then shuts the door.

  Sighing, because there’s no way I can deny that I slept with him after she read the stalker letter, and certain that Sasha is bringing it up most likely because she’s trying to take my mind off of the whole ordeal, I say, “Yes.”

  “Yay!” she cheers before sitting on their neatly made bed and patting the spot next to her. “Sit. Give me all of the details.”

  Okay, so she’s also a little nosy too, but I love her like the sister I never had but always wanted, so I sit down and start to spill. Or try to. It’s harder than I thought to admit aloud that I had sex with a man I just met. Covering my face with my hands, I say, “I don’t know what the heck I was thinking.”

  “You were thinking that he was a big, hot biker who looked like an expert in knowing the best ways to make a woman scream,” Sasha supplies, making my hands drop from my face and my jaw drop so that I can face her.

  “Sasha!” I chastise.

  “Am I wrong?” she asks with a smirk.

  “No, but still…”

  “I only know because I’ve been there too,” she points out, implying a little more than I needed to know about her and Chase. “So, were you right about him?” she asks.

  Taking a deep breath to consider my words, I finally admit to her, “I nearly lost my voice.”

  “I knew it!” Sasha exclaims triumphantly with both of her arms in the air. “Start from the beginning. What happened after you left the restaurant?”

  “We just went for a ride, stopped and talked for a while. Flirted a little,” I answer with a shrug.

  “And then?”

  “And then he took me home…” I start before I narrow my eyes at her. “You wouldn’t know anything about that dime in the seat of my car, would you?”

  “What? No way,” she answers with an indignant scoff. “I’m sure it just fell out of my pocket.”

  “You were wearing a dress without pockets,” I point out.

  “Oh, then it fell out of my purse,” she replies with a mischievous grin.

  “I take it you’re familiar with Abe’s ‘Beard rides’ shirt?”

  Tapping her f
ingernail to her lip as if she’s thinking about it, Sasha eventually says, “You know, I may be familiar with such a shirt.”

  “Of course you are,” I mutter with a shake of my head. “And I’m sure I wasn’t the first woman to saddle up.”

  “Abe isn’t a womanizer,” Sasha contends, making me roll my eyes. “He isn’t! Yes, there are a few women at the clubhouse that he gets…consoled by, but they love him.”

  “Wow. That makes me feel better,” I reply sarcastically.

  “No, I mean, those women may be a little clingy, but believe me, they know the score. The guys don’t lead them on, yet they keep coming back for more.”

  “Well, I won’t be going back for more,” I assure her. “And he obviously isn’t interested in more either.”

  “You won’t? He’s not?” she asks, arching one of her blonde eyebrows skeptically.

  “No. It was a one-time thing. Besides, even if I wanted…more good times, I have the show coming up.”

  “We both know that you’re not going to be able to open up and find the man of your dreams on a reality show,” Sasha declares. “Especially not after what happened with…”

  “Yes, I know that whole thing with Blake messed with my head and heart, but the producers swear that they found the twenty men for the show based on various personality tests that match exactly what I said I’m looking for in a husband.”

  “I’m sure they did find some suitable matches for you,” Sasha says. “But they’re also looking for ratings, which means there will be some men who are super competitive, some that are funny, and some that are complete assholes when they’re on camera but sweethearts when they’re with you. Like Blake.”

  “Probably,” I admit. “And if I don’t like a single one of them, then I’ll act like I do until the finale for great ratings.”

  “Pretend and possibly break someone’s heart like Blake did to you?” Sasha asks.

  “No. I’m not going to lead anyone on, and I am definitely not sleeping with any of them,” I assure her. “If the producers want to make it look like we shut the door and more happened for the sake of the curious viewers, then fine. But I’m not tangling up the physical stuff with the emotional.”

  “Did any of the emotional get tangled up with the physical stuff you did with Abe?” Sasha asks with a grin.

  “No, of course not,” I reply with a scoff. “I barely know him, and it was more of an experiment.”

  “An experiment?” Sasha repeats with her brow furrowed.

  “Yeah, an experiment to see if sex with a stranger can be as good as it is with someone you have feelings for.”

  “And what’s the verdict?” she asks. “I’ve never slept with a stranger.”

  “Maybe Abe was an anomaly,” I say while I examine my fingernails. “But I don’t think I could ever have sex with anyone who will top that.”

  “Aww,” Sasha says as if what I said was meant to be sweet.

  “It was just sex.”

  “Great sex?” she amends.

  “Yes.”

  “Amazing sex?”

  “That too,” I answer. “Honestly, there’s not an adjective in the dictionary that would accurately describe how good it was, at least for me. Now I know why so many women fall for bad boys.”

  “Because they do it better,” Sasha agrees seriously with a nod of her head.

  Thinking back to the hazy memories of the day before, I admit, “No one’s ever treated me like…that.”

  “Like what?” Sasha asks. “Like you’re a dirty little slut who’s been bad and needs to be punished?”

  “Um, not quite,” I say as I blink at her in surprise from another bout of TMI. Clearing those thoughts from my head, I think back to last night and say, “Abe looked at me and…and touched me like his sole purpose in this world was to make me feel good.”

  “So you would say that, in a way, he sort of worshipped you?” Sasha asks as she gets to her feet and chews on her bottom lip.

  “No, that’s not what I meant,” I correct her.

  “Adored you?” she throws out.

  “I-I dunno. Maybe, yeah?” I reply like I’m asking her for the answer. “It was sort of one-sided. I mean, maybe I was being selfish…”

  “Have you thought about him all day?” Sasha questions me.

  “Well, sure. I mean, how could I not after what we did together?” I say.

  “You’re smiling,” she points out.

  “So?” I ask in confusion.

  “Do you want to be with him again?”

  “I can’t,” I remind her. “The show and all…”

  “But you would want to be with him if not for the show and shit?” she asks.

  God, yes.

  I’m surprised when my head answers so adamantly before my mouth can even open.

  “I wouldn’t be opposed to such a notion,” I tell her with a casual shrug of my shoulders.

  “Oh, my god!” Sasha exclaims. “You’re falling for him!”

  “What? No way!” I reply. “How could I fall for him when I don’t even know him? Heck, I don’t even know his last name! It was just great sex. Once. Now it’s over. Besides, he doesn’t want more or he would’ve asked for my number!”

  “You’ve never slept with a man you’ve just met before, have you?” she points out. “So why Abe?”

  Throwing my hands up in the air, I say, “I told you, I don’t know what I was thinking. Obviously, I wasn’t. And it could’ve been a huge disaster. Maybe I thought he was safe since I figured you wouldn’t have trusted him to take me home if you didn’t approve. I also thought it could be my last chance at a casual romp with no strings attached before I find Mr. Right.”

  Sasha is grinning like a lunatic. “I wasn’t sure what you would think about Abe. I mean, he’s not your usual type, but those arrogant assholes you dated weren’t working. But I knew without a doubt you were his type.”

  “I’m his type?” I blurt out in surprise while warmth fills my chest and some of the gaping holes caused by self-doubt. “I didn’t think men like him had a type.”

  “Abe loves redheads,” she informs me, which makes a lot of sense when I think back to his comments about me being a natural redhead…

  “There it is again!” Sasha shouts so loudly that I startle.

  “What?” I ask.

  “That smile on your face that makes me think I am an awesome matchmaker,” she replies with a smug grin, even doing a goofy little cabbage patch meets running man dance that has me snorting.

  “Do you have any idea how ridiculous you look?” I ask her.

  “Laugh all you want,” Sasha tells me. “But you are on your way to becoming an old lady.”

  My jaw falls open before I say, “Rude! I’m the same age as you!”

  “No, silly,” she tells me with a laugh. “That’s what the guys in the MC call their women.”

  “Oh,” I mutter as I cross my arms over my chest and realize I’m still wearing just a sports bra. “Well, it’s still rude,” I point out.

  “You’ll get used to it,” she tells me with a wave of her hand. “Now, let’s find you a shirt to wear and then get back downstairs to wait for your man.”

  “My man?” I repeat. “You’ve lost your mind. It was a one-time thing that won’t ever happen again! He doesn’t want more, and I can’t do it again.”

  “It only takes one time to start a full-fledged love affair,” she tells me. “And who knows what will happen with him playing the role of your bodyguard.”

  “Ugh, and just when I was starting to forget the stalker,” I tell her.

  “Abe will keep you safe from that maniac,” Sasha assures me before she turns toward her closet, muttering something that sounds like, “Even if he has to kill him.”

  Chapter Nine

  Abe

  I’m a little thrown when I walk up Chase and Sasha’s porch and find that the door is still closed and locked up tight even though they’re expecting me. Raising my knuckles, I rap swiftl
y on the door, in a hurry to see the redheaded goddess again. Also, we need to have another talk about her birth control.

  Chase finally opens the door after what feels like an hour later.

  “Hey, man,” I say when he lets me in and then immediately shuts and locks the door again. “Something up?” I ask since his shoulders are tense, and his eyes keep looking out the window.

  “Come on in and see for yourself,” he grumbles.

  I follow him to the kitchen where Sasha and Mercy are sitting at the dining table that’s full of food, bowls of pasta and vegetables, both women looking like someone pissed in their plates. Mercy’s emerald eyes lower from mine way too soon, though, before I can try to read them.

  “You got here fast,” Sasha teases. She barely breaks a smile, trying to refrain from making fun of me rushing over to see Mercy. I glance over at the redhead again and notice she’s wearing a baggy, white t-shirt that looks like she stole it from some dude. I don’t like that at all.

  “Here,” Chase says and then thrusts a piece of paper in front of my face.

  I flip it over and see it has typed print on one side and just Mercy’s name handwritten on the other. What kind of shit is this? Why is he giving me a note that someone sent her? Does he want me to be jealous? If so, mission accomplished.

  Then I actually start reading. I feel my face warming with anger a little more with each word. Who the fuck would dare call this classy woman slutty? And did they seriously go digging through her garbage looking for a used rubber? That’s sick fucking shit.