by Jenika Snow
Tank looked at Booshie and grinned.
“John, we like you and your little establishment, but you can’t just back out.”
John looked at the ground, clearly thinking about what he was supposed to say.
“Listen.” Booshie took a step forward. “You pay us the weekly fees for the next year, and we will call it even.”
John opened his mouth to say something, maybe to complain that he still couldn’t pay that, but Booshie held his hand up.
“Essentially, you’re breaking a contract, and like any business, you would have to suffer the consequences of breaking said contract, right?”
It took him a moment, but John nodded. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Good, then we have an understanding that we will keep the agreement that is set in place.” Booshie lowered his head slightly but kept his gaze locked on John. “Because I don’t want to have to come back here and kick your fucking ass, John. When I said the club likes you, I meant that, but when you fuck with our revenue, then you are nothing special.”
John swallowed audibly. “Yeah, I don’t want any trouble. I just want to back away from…” He looked between him and Tank and then swallowed again. “I just want to stay away from back-alley stuff.” John retreated a step, and Booshie couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
“All right, man.” Booshie walked up to him and gripped his shoulder. “Glad things worked out and we didn’t have to bust kneecaps.” He grinned, but he was far from joking. It wasn’t like they went around doing this shit to every bar owner, but there had to be consequences when a verbal contract was in place. They couldn’t have the rep of being bad motherfuckers if they let every Tom, Dick, and Harry walk all over them.
“Come on, man, I’m thirsty.” Tank placed another toothpick in his mouth, and Booshie followed him out and into the bar. Some oldies music was playing overhead, a few slutty girls were dancing with each other in the center of the room, and the overall bar was pretty packed. “Can you believe that asshole trying to say he couldn’t afford to pay us, when he’s been busy like this every fucking weekend?” Tank prompted, but even in his voice it was clear the man was busy checking out the pussy. “I mean, I’ve seen the numbers he’s been pulling in. The asshole is a lying motherfucker.”
Booshie glanced at Tank, and the other biker turned away from the gyrating women.
“Little told me that every time he comes in here for a collection, the place is pretty much shoulder-to-shoulder, and you know he overcharges for that imported shit.”
Booshie nodded and scanned the bar. “Yeah, I know he does. That’s why I’m not letting him get by on this one.” He continued to look throughout the bar, but it was the little platinum pixie-haired beauty currently tossing back shots with a Dita Von Teese look-alike who snagged his attention. There had always been something about her that had his dick harder than a motherfucker.
Shit, just thinking about her tight little body, her slender frame, and her mouth that was just as quick and raunchy as any of the Vicious Bastards’ had his cock ready to burst through his jeans. The brunette and Naggie were speaking in between clearly getting hammered, but there was almost this forlorn expression on Naggie’s face.
Whatever had brought her to the bar had obviously not been good. It wasn’t like she didn’t look like the kind of woman who enjoyed herself and partied, and he heard Stella and Cadeon talking about the wild side Naggie had, but there was this definite heavy cloud hanging over her.
“Man, I’m going to grind my shit all up on those college chicks. They keep eye-fucking the hell out of me,” Tank said.
Booshie looked over at Tank and then glanced at the women dancing together in the center of the room.
“Damn, they’re fucking hot, with those tight-ass bodies,” Tank added and grinned. “I betcha I can get both of them in my bed tonight.”
“No doubt, man, but they are young enough to be your kids.”
Tank looked over at him. “Yeah, but I don’t have any kids, so I’m not going to entertain that thought.” Tank stared over Booshie’s shoulder. “But damn, look at that blonde hottie over there by the bar.”
Booshie knew exactly who Tank was referring to, and he wasn’t going to let Tank entertain that thought.
“Man, I might go hit up the tatted-up honey.”
“Back it off.” Booshie hadn’t meant to say that on such a rough growl, but damn, just the thought of any guy, especially a Bastards’ member, going over and trying to get with Naggie pissed him off.
“What, you hitting that or something?” Tank moved a step back and reached for the toothpick in his mouth to remove it.
“No, but she works with Cadeon, and she has a man.” Damn, Booshie needed to take a step back from this conversation. Tank was watching him with this look that told him he was suspicious on why he was cock-blocking so hard.
“Yeah, man, what the fuck ever.” Tank shrugged. “I’m going over and picking up those chicks. They look like threesome material for sure.” He moved past him and over to the girls on the dance floor. Instantly, they parted from each other and fit Tank between them.
Booshie looked at Naggie again, and his fucking cock got hard right away. She was leaning over the bar slightly, reaching for the limes, and her tank top rode up and displayed the small of her back. Shit, the ink on her skin was such a turn-on, and although she wasn’t totally covered in tattoos from head to toe, she had the perfect amount. Her body was also hot as shit.
Booshie had always been about the thick, curvy variety of women, but Naggie’s slender form had him on the verge of jerking himself off later tonight. He looked at her lower back, and his dick gave a jerk. On the small of her back was what looked like a sugar skull tattoo in vibrant colors. There were roses and vines moving throughout the eye sockets, the nose, and mouth, and Booshie found it hard to concentrate on anything else.
He took a step closer to her but stopped when some douchebag moved up right beside her, leaned on the counter close enough that their shoulders were touching, and whispered something in her ear. Before Booshie could react, because he was feeling pretty damn irrational at the moment, Naggie turned and pushed the guy away.
The fucker took on this angry expression, said something else to her, and Naggie reared her arm back and brought her open palm to his cheek.
The guy stumbled back, a look of shock on his face, and then slowly it morphed into rage.
Before the situation could escalate into violence toward Naggie, which Booshie could tell the guy was about ready to hand out, he was moving toward her and feeling his possessive side rise up like a hungry beast.
6
The guy who just whispered in Naggie’s ear said he wanted to fuck her with his tongue. Normally, Naggie was all about raunchy, filthy sex, but this guy looked like he liked to get his way no matter what and couldn’t give two shits about the woman he was screwing.
She wasn’t all for that. He also couldn’t take no for an answer, and that was a big red flag for her. She might’ve been tough and have a mouth on her that rivaled a sailor’s, but no fucking way could she take on a guy when rage was running through him, not for long anyway.
Naggie was not a prude and had done some pretty freaky shit in her time, but no way in hell was she about to let some little prick she didn’t know come up to her and whisper those filthy things in her ear.
He was drunk, but that wasn’t an excuse. Her hand stung from slapping him, and she realized in less than a couple hours she had hit three people. She would have felt doubly liberated to have smacked this guy and put his dumb ass in its place, but it was clear he was not used to this kind of treatment from a woman.
He was one of those men on the inside. He looked like one of those boy next door types, with the perfectly combed hair, tailored and starched clothes, and that Tommy Hilfiger scent surrounding him. So not Naggie’s type, but even if she had given him the time of day, his raunchy drunk talk was not winning him any points.
“You trashy c
unt.”
She chuckled, because it had been a while since she’d been called a cunt. Her handprint was a red mark on his cheek. “Fuck off, prep.” She turned to talk to Bennie, but then he grabbed her arm and yanked her back around so she was staring at him. He still didn’t let her go. “You better fucking let me go before I smack you again and make you look like the little bitch you are.”
He bared his teeth at her, and just when she thought he’d have the balls to hit her in front of everyone, this looming shadow covered both of them. She turned and saw Booshie standing right beside them, this dark, deadly look on his face and his gaze latched onto where the asshole still had a hold of her arm.
“Boy, you better fucking let go of her arm if you want to keep your hand.”
Booshie’s voice actually had shivers working through her. If the prep had been smart, he would have realized Booshie was like The Hulk compared to him, and looking like he really would tear off the kid’s hand with the slightest provocation.
“Hey, this doesn’t concern you.” It was clear the kid was a hothead, drunker than hell by the way he slurred his words, and clearly didn’t care if he lived or died. Prep took a step back but ended up bumping into the guy beside him. That had the man turning around and shoving back.
“Watch it, asshole.”
The prep stumbled forward and right into her, knocked over the glass of water Ryan had insisted she have, and spilled the damn thing all over her. The coldness of it had her jumping up, but all that did was have the glass falling off the counter and shattering on the ground.
“You just asked for a whole lot of trouble, kid,” Booshie said, but the prep wasn’t so much a kid as he was a twenty-something douchebag.
The next series of events happened so fast Naggie couldn’t even wrap her head around them. Booshie had the guy by the scruff and yanked him away from her. He had him lifted off the ground by his shirt so that only the prep’s toes touched the floor. Everything seemed to grow still and quiet. The biker’s rage was tangible, and she knew Booshie was about to do some serious damage if things didn’t settle down. She didn’t want an all-out brawl.
“You dare to lay a hand on a woman?” Booshie prompted in a slow, even, but hard voice. That sound was even scarier than if he was yelling.
Naggie saw the way Booshie’s knuckles turned whiter the longer he held onto the guy’s shirt.
“You actually put your fucking hands on her like you had the right to.” Booshie didn’t look affected aside from that deadliness that came from him. “In fact, if I didn’t know any better, I would think you were thinking about hitting her.”
The cockiness on the prep’s face vanished as realization set in. “No harm.” He lifted his hand, trying to remove Booshie’s, but it was no use. Compared to the biker, he looked like a child.
“You never put your hands on a woman unless she wants it, and it is clear that one didn’t.” Booshie’s face slowly started to turn fierce and horrifying, and she was actually starting to worry for the asshole who deserved what he was getting right now. “Clearly, you’re as stupid as you look.” But before she could intervene, Booshie let the guy go.
Prep fell to the floor, but he only moved back a few steps and tried to suck in air. Booshie took a step back, rolled his head around on his neck, and then cracked his knuckles. She could tell he was the type of man who didn’t just walk away from an altercation, but then again, he was a Vicious Bastard, and their reputations were hardcore.
When he turned and looked at her, she was stunned speechless and couldn’t even move. But Booshie had been right—the guy was stupid, because he charged and threw a sucker punch in Booshie’s side.
Even from where she stood, she could tell that when the guy hit Booshie, it was like slamming his fist into a concrete wall. And then it was like all hell broke loose as Booshie punched the guy right in the face. Prep’s head cocked to the side, and he fell backward and slid across the floor like he’d been hit with a wrecking ball. Blood instantly spilled from his nose and mouth.
The electricity in the room became charged, and the hairs on her arms stood on end.
“Holy fucking hell, girl.”
She looked at Bennie, not knowing what to say, but feeling this rush of adrenaline pumping through her veins. She nodded after Bennie spoke and then looked at the scene in front of her again. Booshie stormed over to Prep again, bent down so he could haul the guy up by the neck, and punched him again. Blood covered the younger guy’s lower face and his pale-yellow polo.
But then another biker came up, Tank, one she knew was sergeant at arms for the Vicious Bastards, and hauled Booshie back. He said something to the other man, low and fast, but Booshie still had his eyes on the guy he had beaten the hell out of. More preppy college kids came up and helped their friend off the floor, but at least they were smart enough to leave.
“Damn, I swear there is always some shit that happens,” Ryan said from behind them.
Naggie couldn’t move as she kept her gaze on Booshie. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen her fair share of bar brawls, but this had been something different. She actually felt like Booshie hadn’t just been helping her out, but he had been protecting her in a way mere strangers didn’t really do for each other.
But she supposed it wasn’t like they were really strangers at all, or maybe it was just this weird feeling inside her, because she wanted him in a bad way. And by “in a bad way,” she meant she wanted him to fuck the hell out of her.
He turned away from Tank and slowly moved toward her. He was all muscle, corded and hard, and tensing right below his golden, hard skin. When he was right in front of her, it seemed like the music came blasting back into her, and the voices in the room grew to a normal pitch. The scent of leather, cologne, and even a hint of motor oil from his Harley filled her nose and actually made her wet.
A look around his wide shoulders showed everyone had gone back to what they’d been doing. At least they were smart in that respect. Damn, she had never seen a man wear a pair of jeans, dark T-shirt, or leather biker vest as well as Booshie did.
“Shit, you’re cut.”
His deep voice had her lifting her gaze back to his face, but his focus was on her hand. She looked down, saw that she did have a small cut on the side of her palm, and reached for a napkin. “Damn, I didn’t even realize.” The cut was tiny, but with so much blood smeared on her hand, it looked worse than it was. “It’s okay though.” She lifted her gaze back to his face and saw he was watching her intently.
“You want me to call your boyfriend? He can come get you if you and your friend are too drunk to drive home.” He looked over her shoulder at Bennie.
“Um.” She waited until he looked back at her. “No more boyfriend.” God, she sounded all breathy and excited at that prospect, and how bad was that?
He didn’t say anything for several seconds, and when he did speak, his voice was all deep and husky. “Is that right?” He lowered his gaze to her breasts, and dammit she felt her nipples tighten as if he were actually reaching out and touching her.
“Yeah, that’s right,” she said, but didn’t realize she had actually spoken until the words were already out. She had just broken it off with Rob—that lying, cheating son-of-a-bitch—but regardless, jumping into bed with the man she had been trying not to lust after was wrong on a lot of levels.
But Naggie had never been one to live life by the book. She couldn’t, because of the crappy upbringing she had endured. But this was Booshie, a badass motherfucker from the Vicious Bastards MC, and right now, she was pretty sure he was eye-fucking the hell out of her.
“Girl, you okay? I feel like I’m in some kind of non-physical porno right now,” Bennie whispered into her ear, but Naggie was pretty sure Booshie heard. Hell, the corner of his mouth twitched.
She elbowed Bennie in the ribs and smiled when her friend grunted. “I’m good.” She heard Bennie’s phone going off and then the sound of her friend talking.
“How about I bu
y you a drink?” Booshie asked.
She nodded, because she was already pretty much drunk, but the little altercation had put a cramp on her buzz. Booshie moved over to the bar, and she glanced down at his hands—his sexy, massively sized hands. Didn’t they say big hands meant a big cock? God, she was grasping at straws now and thinking about totally inappropriate things.
He still had one hand curled into a tight fist, and she knew that although he played it off like he was collected once again, she could tell this was a man unused to keeping his anger in check.
He ordered them a beer each, and for the next twenty minutes, they stayed on a safe topic, with Bennie chiming in every once in a while.
“Listen, I have to get home. My mother is having trouble making the bridal veil for the Brandon wedding, and she needs my help.” Bennie and her mother owned a small, eclectic bridal shop in town. It wasn’t a traditional shop that carried just the white and cream gowns, but ones that were colorful, custom, and original, just like Bennie and her mother. “Are you ready to go?” Bennie grabbed her clutch off the bar top and stood from her seat.
Naggie had driven herself here, but she was far too drunk to even think about doing that now. She also wasn’t ready to leave, not when she was feeling this weird connection with Booshie, but it was the good kind of weird. Tank came up to Booshie again, but this time he had two blonde co-eds beside him.
Their tits were nearly spilling out of their shirts, and their skirts left nothing to the imagination. They also had some weird sparkling shit that covered their arms, and Naggie thought the whole look was ridiculous. She turned toward Bennie when Booshie and the other guy started talking. “I think I might actually stay for a bit longer.”
Bennie leaned to the side and looked at Booshie and then looked at her again. “You seriously expect me to leave you here with this big-ass biker dude? You’re nearly wasted as it is.”
“I’m buzzed, not sloppy, Bennie. Besides, he isn’t a stranger. He is actually close with Cadeon’s girlfriend, family almost, and he’s been coming into the shop for the last few months or so.”
