He wrapped his solid arms beneath me and pulled me to his chest. “I’m sorry, Fiona.” I started to sob into his flannel shirt and leather vest. “It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re here with me,” he mumbled into my hair. “Will you forgive me?”
“There’s nothing to forgive.” My voice was faint, smothered in his shirt. “You didn’t know.”
He rolled onto his back, gathering me to lay on his chest. “What happened? Who hurt you?”
I never told anyone what happened. What my father did to me. If I never spoke of it, I could keep it buried deep inside, and left there, and only in my memories. I was afraid to speak of it, especially to a man who looked at me without disgust. “I was punished often for my wicked ways when I was young.”
“Who punished you? You were young. How could anyone think you were wicked, darlin’?” His voice cracked, deep and low.
“When the people you love keep telling you that you start to believe it.”
He huffed. “Your parents?”
“My father. He locked me in a closet for hours to repent of my sins.”
He hugged me tighter. His heart was pounding hard against my cheek. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. I wish I could go back in time so I could prevent all the pain that you had to endure, Fiona. But from now on and every day after this one, I will protect you.”
Those words meant so much to me. I smiled and rubbed my cheek against him. I breathed in the aroma of his leather vest, mingled with his own musky scent. It calmed me. I did feel safe with him.
I held Fiona in my arms for a long time and listened to her steady breathing as she fell asleep. But I was wide awake, staring up at a motionless ceiling fan in the center of her bedroom. I just then remembered we left Trooper out in her backyard. I shifted my body out from under her. She didn’t budge. I let him in, and he jumped up, planting his paws on my thighs. Then he pushed off me and galloped down the hall into Fiona’s bedroom. He was on her bed, licking her face by the time I caught up with him. I left Trooper with her, so she could rest up before she had to go to work at the Cheetah later that night.
I strapped my lid on, climbed back on my Road King and headed home. My grip on the bars was tight. I couldn’t forgive myself for what I had just done to Fiona. I acted like a predatory animal, only wanting to fulfill some kinky fetish without even considering how she would feel about being blindfolded. I moved way too fast and frightened her, making her remember the fucked up things she went through when she was young. I was only thinking about myself, not considering how covering Fiona’s eyes in darkness would affect her, like all the darkness and pain in my head that could sometimes swallow me whole.
Fiona was so beautiful, she took my breath away. Her fiery red hair, her pale blue eyes, her creamy white skin, and those rosy pink cupid doll lips. But what made her even more beautiful to me was her childlike innocence. She was naïve and too trusting in others, even after what she told me about her childhood. She was an exotic dancer with feline grace, revealing her gorgeous body with no inhibitions. I was obsessed with her. I wanted to protect her. Seeing blood, flesh, and bone was just another day when I served in Iraq. I wanted to squeeze the trigger on my revolver when I shoved it into Kyle’s mouth. But I couldn’t do that–not in front of Fiona.
I took a long ride home to clear my head on that cool Saturday afternoon. It helped lift the heavy weight off my chest and subdue the throbbing headache. Even with the chill in the air, the sun was out as I moved rode through the wind. And it felt good. I realized then that Fiona was the only woman on this planet who took all that weight off me too. Her sweet, velvety voice as she hummed to me; like a cat purring. She was so soft, and I wanted to be gentle with her—take things slow.
I didn’t see Ratchet’s truck as I pulled in the driveway and then into the garage. Both he and Sam were out running weekend errands, and Sam had to work a shift at the bookstore. I went down into my basement, and there was Gypsy, curled up in a fluffy white ball on my pillow. She opened only one eye to peer at me as if to say, Thanks, asshole. You just interrupted my sleep.
“Not sure if you’re going to be a good hostess to Trooper when he comes over to visit.” She mewed at me.
* * *
Saturday night, I played a game of pool at the clubhouse with my VP, Spider. And he was close to winning that game too. Skully and Tanya pulled up on his Super Glide. They were bundled up in their leathers as the temps dropped and the afternoon sun began to hide behind the trees out in the parking lot. I took a bank shot to one of Spider’s low balls, and it smoothly rolled right into the corner pocket.
Skully sauntered up to us with that unique gait that stemmed from having a limp. Tanya went to the bar to grab them both a beer. It’d been a few months now since Hammer beat the shit out of Skully; his wounds fully healed. He now had a scar down his left eyebrow from where Tanya’s doctor stitched him up. Scully used to be a club member with those fucking women beaters—the Hell Hounds—but now he’s proved himself and his loyalty to the Chaos Kings, as well as to Tanya. He’d become a full patched-in member of my tribe.
“Who’s got high ball?” Skully asked as Tanya came up and handed him a beer.
I took another shot at one of Spider’s balls, but my aim was a bit off, and it didn’t make it in the pocket. He took aim at one of mine behind the cue ball. “Gunner does. And…right about now…he won’t have any balls.” He pulled back the pool stick and struck the cue ball to my thirteen. It hit the bank and rolled all the way to the other end of the table and dropped in the corner pocket. The eight ball was last. Spider took aim. It was a straight shot, dropping right into the side pocket.
Spider rose and turned to grin at me. “You’re a better match for me, Gunner. Better than Wez or Magnet.” He chuckled.
“Yeah. I’ll second that motion.”
Skully and Tanya started tonguing each other in front of us like they always did. It was never spoken, but the Chaos brothers knew Tanya called all the shots in that relationship. They were a good match, though. And Skully’s son, little Jake, was a good kid. He seemed to be easygoing and liked to hang at the clubhouse sometimes, sitting on our bikes. He knew the rules though and would always ask first. He learned right away that you don’t ever touch another man’s bike unless you ask first.
I walked back to the bar with Spider and left the lovebirds to their make out session. I grabbed a bottle of Patrón from behind the bar and poured Spider and me a shot. He sat on the stool directly in front of me, lighting up a smoke. “You sure you wanna do a shot this soon? The night’s early, man.”
“Need it now, Spider. I’ll keep it at a steady pace.” We both downed our shot glasses. Spider slammed his back on the bar. I wiped my mouth with my flannel shirt sleeve and poured myself another. “I’m going to swing by the Cheetah later.”
He exhaled a drag of his smoke, “So, you seeing that redhead? What do they call her there?”
“Cherri. Her real name is Fiona.”
“So, how’s it goin’ with Fiona?”
“Good. I took her out for a ride on the bike. It was her first time on one. She was a natural though. Relaxed.”
“That’s good, brother. She’s a beautiful gal.”
“Yeah, she is. Not sure what she sees in me though.”
Spider titled his head, his eyes scanning from my face and down to my chest and cut. “You ain’t too shabby, man. And you ain’t no asshole either.”
“Ah. Whatever. If nothing else, I’m watching over her.”
“Why’s that? Someone bothering her?” He tilted his head again, peering at me. “Now Gunner, don’t let that rage you keep all bottled up erupt from the inside.”
“I won’t. Fiona helps calm all that fucked up shit I deal with in my head. I like being with her. Some limp dick asshole has been stalking her and doing some fucked up shit. I almost put a bullet through his throat the other day.”
“What did he do to her?”
“I came around the corner at the Chee
tah, heading toward the VIP rooms and the motherfucker came out of a room and grabbed her by the throat. Pushed her up against the door. I scared him off with my revolver.”
“Fuck, man.” He shook his head.
“Not only that—he had a dog locked up in his shiny BMW, windows up, no AC. It was as hot as the Iraqi dessert—maybe hundred and thirty fuckin’ degrees in that car! I got my crowbar and smashed in a window. Got the dog out. He’s shacked up with Fiona now. I call him Trooper.”
“Fuckin’ A! Some shit-bags feel like they’re a man when they hurt a woman or an animal. It just shows how weak they are. They just need to stay way clear of this tribe, brother. I know people over at the county sheriff’s department. Hell, some are my kin! What’s this shit-bag’s name? I could get some intel on him for you.” Spider was a brother you could count on. That’s why he was the VP of the Chaos Kings.
“Kyle is all I know. And his tag number. Easy to remember; CHA-CHNG.”
“That’s all I need, Gunner.” Spider’s sly grin was contagious.
All the dancers at the Cheetah were gathered together in the backstage dressing room. Tony, the owner, walked in, followed by Hank, his huge frame coming through the doorway. Hank stood behind him, his bulky arms crossed over his chest, his mouth set in a straight line.
Tony was a middle-aged man; short and pudgy with kind eyes that crinkled at the corners. He ran a hand up to his balding scalp, imagining hair that was long gone. His eyes didn’t meet any of ours as he looked down at the floor. “Girls. I don’t want to have to do this, but I’m selling the Cheetah. The paperwork will be done and made legit in a few weeks.”
“But why, Tony? You’ve owned this club forever!” Destiny was the first to protest.
Tony’s eyes turned to her, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. But I’ve been squeezed out. Nothing I can do about it. If I don’t sell, then people will get hurt. Or worse.”
“Who’s squeezing you?”
“All you need to know is that you can stay on and dance here.” Tony’s mouth lifted in a smile, but his eyes were still sad. “And if you do, just be careful. I’m out, and Hank’s coming along with me. He won’t be here to protect you.”
“I wouldn’t work for those Russian pieces of shit. They would just have to put a bullet in my head,” Hank grumbled. Tony spun around. “Shut up. Not in front of the girls.” He shuffled past Hank, leaving us.
We all stood silent. I felt my chest tighten and a churning in my stomach, full of anxiety. Hank unfolded his arms from his burly chest. “Tony is too scared. Worried about you girls and his own family. He’s already been threatened, so I’m going to tell all of you now—don’t stay. You don’t want to rub up next to these Russians. They’re snakes.”
It was my turn on the stage, and my movements were slow and languid in rhythm to the slow Audioslave song. I performed my back hook spin, placing my hand at the top of the pole and my other straight out across my chest. In rhythm to the haunting beat of the song, I turned to face the opposite direction, swinging my inside leg forward and then back to hook my knee on the pole. Using the momentum of the swing, I spun my body around, my red sequined pasties glittering with the reflection from the rotating disco ball hanging from the ceiling above me.
But my heart felt heavy with sadness, and my performance fell flat. The Cheetah was busy as usual on a Saturday night, with customers at the bar and at the tables around the dance floor. My eyes surveyed the club, quickly going to search the corner. When I found what I was looking for, my heart raced in exhilaration. Gunner was sitting alone at his table, his arms folded, a hand wrapped around a glass of whiskey.
Chris Cornell’s deep melancholic voice ended, and the song was over. “Give it up for Ms. Red Hot Cherri, fellas!” Jay-Jay came over the microphone. I stepped down off the side of the stage, wiping the sweat from the back of my neck with a towel.
And Ethan was there, right at my side. He didn’t touch me, but his eyes were stern, and his brows knitted together. “Let’s go to the VIP. Now.” His warm hand was on the back of my elbow, but he leads the way down the hall to one of the unoccupied rooms.
I walked in first, Ethan following close behind me before shutting the door. He leaned up against it, folding his arms across his chest. “Did you see those big men out there wearing suits? One of them smoking a cigar?”
I did notice them. “Yes, I saw them. Why?”
“They’re Russian. The criminal kind.”
I tossed the sweaty towel on the couch “Yes. Tony just told all of us tonight that he’s selling the Cheetah. Must be to those men out there. He didn’t say much, only that we need to be careful.”
He stepped a few paces to me. He was so close I craned my neck up to meet his dark eyes. He grasped my arms. “Fiona, you’re not working here anymore.”
“But I haven’t had time to think about what I’m going to do, Ethan! I’ve worked here for so long. It’s the money that I can make here to able to live on my own. Away from my parents. Away from Kyle and not having to depend on him.”
He went silent, his eyes boring into mine. “You don’t know what these Russians are about, Fiona, so I’m going to tell you. My brother, Ratchet. You remember him from the patch-in party here? His ol’ lady, Sam, was property of the Hell Hounds MC. They’re a diamond club. Outlaw. A bunch of low-life dirty hounds who’d sell their own mothers! So much violence was done to her. She was abused and raped—over and over. She used to do other depraving things that I can only imagine. The Hounds planned on selling Sam to those same Russians sitting out there right now. They’re in the business of human trafficking, Fiona—and some other things I can only guess. But luck was on our side, and we got Sam out of the MC, and we saved her from being sold as a sex slave. That is why you are not working here anymore. As of right now!”
All the things Ethan just said terrified me. My heart pounded fast in my chest, and I felt a flush of anxiety rush up my body. I suddenly felt cornered. Trapped. Inside that dark closet. My only reaction was to lash out at what was right there in front of me. “And what about the Chaos Kings MC? Aren’t all your kind just gangsters too? Is this woman, Sam, now the property of the Chaos Kings MC?”
I expected my words would make Ethan flinch and move away from me, but instead, he pulled me roughly up against his chest. His steady hand reached up to the back of my scalp. He gripped my hair close, and I gasped as my neck was suddenly tilted back. “No, Fiona. The Chaos Kings are not like them. We don’t hurt anyone like some monsters in this world. We’re our own tribe. We take care of our own. And I’m going to take of you from this very fucking moment on.” His mouth came crashing down roughly on mine, invading my lips with his tongue.
I pulled away from him. “I don’t want to be in the dark anymore, Ethan. Don’t shut that door on me. Let me in!” I pressed my hands against his hard chest.
His brows knitted together, and he squeezed his eyes shut. He balled his fists and smashed them against his temples. “I’m messed up in here, Fiona. That desert was hell. I fought alongside my brothers and sisters over in Iraq. I was a sergeant in the Army; the gunner on an Abrams tank, and I served in a platoon. It was home; along with my tank commander, driver, and loader. And now I battle PTSD every fucking day. I have flashbacks and headaches. I don’t sleep much, either. I break out in a cold sweat sometimes, and I don’t even know what triggers it. It just happens. My mind is fucked up.” He opened his eyes, and he glared back at me. “I’m filled with pent-up rage, like thrashing around in a cage. Sometimes, I only see darkness, like tunnel vision.”
My heart skipped a few beats. I reached up and caressed his cheek with my fingertips. “You are so very handsome to me, Ethan. I see darkness, too, all the time. And I fear it too.” He closed his eyes again and groaned.
He took both my hands and stepped back a few paces, pulling me with him. He sat down on the red velvet couch, planting me down on his lap, my thighs straddling his hard, muscular legs. “Dance for me, darlin’.”
I began to slowly swivel my hips, grinding and gyrating on top of his now rock-hard manhood. I flipped my hair in rhythm to my swiveling hips. He lifted his hips and unzipped his jeans. He yanked them down, along with his boxers. “You’re on top, so you have all the control. Take as much of me as you can, darlin’.” His deep and hungry voice was strained as he gritted his teeth.
I was already slippery wet and reached down between us to pull my thong to the side. Then I slowly lowered myself on him. The thickness of his smooth head stretched me. He hissed and clenched his jaw, trying to maintain control to let me do as I pleased. “God, Fiona. We need to take this as slow as you need.” I bit my bottom lip as I inched down a bit more, filling myself up with his massive cock.
I gasped as I felt my core stretch even more but couldn’t go any farther. And he was only halfway in. He clutched my hips and prevented me from moving. “That’s enough. This time. Next time, I’ll go deeper.” I broke his hold and began to move slowly up and down on his hard length. I cried out again and began to rub my swollen clit. The pace of my breathing sped up, almost to panting. I was on the brink of an intense orgasm. And then it happened. I cried out as my core exploded with a burst of hot molten pleasure.
“Thatta girl. Come on me!” His masculine voice rumbled. I rode him, spasming around his cock and came crashing over that pinnacle of pleasure.
“Watch me,” he growled as he lifted me off him. I stood above him and watched as he gripped his bold and slick manhood with both hands, twisting and pumping. His roar was primal and fierce as milky white cum gushed from his magnificent erection.
His body shook while his hands still gripped his spasming cock. I climbed back on him, straddling his lap, and wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders. Then I began to hum for him. I was out of tune, and the melody was simple, but he seemed to like it as he steadied his breathing. I caught the scent of our mingled sex as he leaned his forehead into my breasts and wrapped his strong arms around me.
BOX SET - CHAOS KINGS: Chaos Kings Motorcycle Club BOOKS 1-4 Page 27
