Notch: The Lost Boys MC #4

by Rylan, Savannah

  Maybe she had been a target of the gang and fled to save her own ass?

  Either way, it made me very nervous with all the questions she had been asking me. And it made me thankful I hadn’t been honest with her. Well, partially not honest. I was an EMT at one point. Hadn’t been for a few years, though. She did keep asking a lot of questions about my life, though. My past. Where I grew up. What I did for fun. Where I enjoyed going in the city when I had downtime.

  Was she fishing for information?

  “Notch!” Stone yelled.

  I snapped my head up. “What?”

  “You not listening or something?”

  “Depends. You guys done bickering?”

  He rolled his eyes. “You got anything from those pictures?”

  “Just the Tianjin evidence. I need to get the face pictures sorted and figure out what kind of favors we can call in to try and identify these assholes. That’s my first step. Once we can identify them, we can find our inside source. The weak link, so to speak,” I said.

  “Good. Stay on that,” Stone said.

  “What do we do in the meantime?” Texas asked.

  My head fell back to the pictures and I began actually rearranging them. But the entire time, I wondered if any of them were related to Maya somehow. If she knew them or had seen them at one point in her life. If she was innocent in all this, but somehow attached to it, did she know what was going on? That they were in town?

  Fuck, was she in trouble and wasn’t aware of it?

  I bristled at that idea. I didn’t know why I did, but it made me angry. It made me ready for bloodshed. My nostrils flared as I jammed my phone into my pocket, unable to breathe right. I closed my eyes and backed myself into the shadows. I peeled myself away from the church meeting already careening out of control again. I ran my hand through my hair and tried steadying my thoughts.

  Then, I shook my head.

  There was no way Maya was involved. All I did was go to a random tattoo shop I’d heard about from several people in the bars I frequented. She happened to be Chinese American, who happened to be from Tianjin. That was it.

  But if that was it, then was I putting her in danger?

  By spending time with her, was I putting her in the crosshairs? Like we’d done Stone’s sister? Stone’s niece? Hayley? The fucking Celtic Riders?

  Fuck, I was a walking time bomb.

  Church ended with no plans and I was fed up with shit. I knew the Celtic Riders were on edge, too. For the first time, the crews segregated themselves. The Lost Boys in the back rooms, and the Celtic Riders taking over the kitchen and the living room. Asher wasn’t happy that Freya went back to be with Bronx. I saw the worry in Rose’s eyes as tears flooded them. And while I understood why Stone didn’t want to go down the path of taking out the detective, I knew we’d have to deal with him eventually.

  He was a massive part of why we were in this shithole to begin with.

  The only thing both crews could agree on in the end was to continue tracking Harry’s movements. As well as the movements regarding this new headquarters of theirs. I put in a few calls to some of the docks we used on occasion, telling them it was urgent for them to keep a lookout on shipments coming from Tianjin. And while I placed those phone calls, Stone drew up a schedule for all the men to take shifts gathering intel quietly.

  And gave explicit instructions for men to be crossed off the list if they felt they had been made.

  I was annoyed that Maya might be involved in all this. But, I was worried that she wasn’t. Because if she wasn’t, I might have already put her in danger simply by being there. I needed answers, though. My mind kept swirling and I couldn't concentrate. I couldn't keep my attention on what I was doing long enough to call in the right favors to get the facial recognition equipment and software we needed.

  “I’m going out for some air,” I said.

  “You’re going nowhere,” Stone said.

  I slowly turned around, my eyes falling heavily onto his.

  “You want shit done?” I asked.

  “Yes. So, get back in there and do it,” he said.

  “If you want it done right, you’ll give me some time to breathe.”

  “Where the hell are you going, anyway? Back to that little tattoo shop of yours?”

  “How I gather my breath is none of your business,” I said.

  “Notch, you can’t be thinking about the next slash in that bedpost right now. We need you here,” Texas said.

  “You won’t have me at all if you don’t let me take a fucking drive to clear my damn head,” I said curtly.

  “Do you trust him?” Asher asked.

  The guys whipped their heads over to him and scoffed.

  “Of course,” Bronx said.

  “Always,” Stone said.

  “The fuck you asking that for?” Texas asked.

  “Then let the man go catch his breath. He’s done a lot for us already. Backing up my guys with the pictures. Facial recognition shit. He’s already called the docks. Let the man breathe, even if that means going out and getting someone else’s breath. Which is none of your business, if you ask me,” Asher said.

  “Well, we didn’t ask you,” Stone said.

  It was the only time I’d ever disobeyed a direct order. And I knew there’d be hell to pay for it. But while Stone argued with Asher—again!—I slipped out the front door. I made my way for my bike, and with each step my mind settled into place. I knew exactly how I would to approach Maya. I knew exactly what I was going to say to her.

  I had to piece this together and have hardcore answers before I brought this up with the guys. Because they were volatile, at best. And an odd sense of protection rose in me that I couldn't swallow back down. I had to get to Maya. I had to make sure she was okay.

  I had to have her in my arms again, one last time.

  12

  Maya

  It was the first time I’d ever logged into my website to change anything. For four years, my site had stayed stagnant. The only thing I ever updated was my portfolio. The pictures of tattoos I was specifically proud of. And that was done by a third-party mechanism I’d found and installed on the site itself. But now, I was logging on to let everyone know I’d be taking some time off. One week, to be exact. The shop would be closed due to vacation time, and I’d be holed up in my apartment trying to figure out what the fuck was going on.

  Because after my brother took that phone call, he was beyond flustered.

  It didn’t take him long to shoo me out of the restaurant. But not before I acquired information I didn’t know I needed. I was more confused and concerned than ever about my brother. There were bigger fish to fry, though.

  I knew Notch was somehow involved in all this. I just didn’t know how.

  I typed up the notice and plastered it at the top of my site. Closed for the next week, due to open next Thursday at my regular opening time. I published it on my site, then wrote up the same notice on a sheet of paper. I taped it to the inside of both front windows, then put one on the door as well. I was closing this damn place down until I could figure out what the hell my brother had gotten himself into and how in the world I played into it.

  How in the world Notch played into all this, too.

  I knew what I heard. And I knew Notch’s tattoo wasn’t a coincidence. For whatever reason, the hoodlums my brother worked for were hunting him down. Well, him and whoever these Lost Boys were. I closed down my shop and turned off all the lights. I double-checked the doors and the windows, making sure they were locked down as well. I turned on my security system and checked for updates one last time, then resolved myself to going upstairs.

  I needed to do some research.

  I got upstairs and put my laptop on my thighs. And as I sat there on my very uncomfortable couch, I pulled up an internet search for “Lost Boys.” I got the usual things. Peter Pan. The Kiefer Sutherland movie. A few other pop culture references I wasn’t all too familiar with. I typed in every variation
I could think of. The Lost Boys. Some Lost Boys. Boys That Are Lost. And after typing in Lost Boys San Diego, I came across something.

  A local news article that was done recently on the Lost Boys M.C.

  I read up on it. The biker gang, so to speak. The lone article detailed their conquests. Some bar on the outskirts of town. A rumored lodge somewhere on the coast. Their charity involvements and some conspiracies related to gun running and other things. The article was no more than a fantastical news blog of local rumors and ghost stories in the San Diego area. And yet, it all made sense.

  Notch’s tattoo. His leather jacket. His rough and tumble nature. How closed off he was regarding his life. The only thing that didn’t make sense were his supposed stories about being an EMT.

  Then again, if he wasn’t an EMT, that explained the weak stomach.

  A soft pounding downstairs caught my ear. I quickly closed my laptop and went running to the only window in my living room. I peered out and saw a shadow on the curb outside. A tall, limber, lean shadow. And I froze.

  “Maya! Open up!”

  I heard the faint call of Notch’s voice and immediately rushed downstairs. I threw open doors, leaving them hanging wide as I charged through my shop. I got to the front door and unlocked it, then tossed it open to find him standing there.

  With those baby blue eyes and that dark hair of his, with wild eyes and worry on his face.

  “Notch,” I said breathlessly.

  He panted. “You’re on vacation?”

  “I uh, is—is everything okay?” I asked.

  He pushed through into my shop without even asking me if he could come in.

  “Are you good here?” he asked.

  I turned around and saw his eyes scanning the room. He walked himself into dark corners, looking around as if he expected someone to be here. I poked my head outside and looked around, seeing if anyone was watching us. Then, I closed my shop door back and locked it.

  I pulled the shade on the window door as well, just to be safe.

  “Yeah. I’m good. Just closing down for a week like I usually do around this time. Are you okay?” I asked.

  He slowly turned around and looked at me. I didn’t know how, but I knew he heard the lie in my voice.

  “Just dealing with some stuff at work,” he said flatly.

  “Being an EMT must be rough, huh?” I asked.

  He cocked his head, and instantly his face went dark.

  “Yes. It is,” he said.

  As much as I wanted to know what in the world was going on—how this man and my brother were connected—I couldn't deny the pull I had toward him. I stepped closer, approaching the ring of fire that surrounded him. His eyes ignited the closer I became. Despite all the unanswered questions and all the whispered rumors of lies and deceit, I reached out for his hand. I took it within mine and pulled him into the hallway, leading him through the shop.

  Leading him into the back.

  Leading him up the stairs.

  Leading him in my apartment.

  “You live up here,” Notch said.

  I closed the door behind us before throwing the lock.

  “I do, yes,” I said softly.

  I turned back around and found him facing me. Eyeing me. Studying me as intensely as he could. I pressed my back against my door and stared at him, wondering why the hell I’d just brought this total stranger up to my place. He slowly walked closer. Stalking me, as his eyes dropped down my body. His hands fell against the door beside my head, trapping me in as my breath quickened.

  “I told you I’d be back,” he murmured.

  His lips crashed against mine and my body rose to the occasion. My hands flew to his hair, forgetting about all the lies, all the questions, and all the fear I had stored in my soul. Our tongues wrapped up together as his hands fell to my hips. His body pinned me against the door, gracing me with his strength as he hunched over to keep our lips connected.

  I moaned against him as my arms slipped around his neck.

  I jumped, wrapping my legs around him. And as he growled, his hands cupped my ass cheeks. His entire palm dwarfed my small stature. Made my ass seem even smaller in his rough, callused hands. I sucked on his lower lip as his hips pinned me to the doorway, not bothering to traverse my apartment to get us to a surface.

  The door was all the surface he needed.

  I pushed his leather jacket off his shoulders as I kissed down his neck. He ripped my shirt over my head before sliding my bra straps down my arms. Our clothes came off in a flurry as he manipulated my body. Folded me and moved me as if I weighed nothing to him. His pants slid to the floor before his thickened girth fell between my thighs. I gasped as he fisted my hair, drawing my gaze back up to his.

  “You’re just as beautiful as I imagined,” he grunted.

  My pussy dripped for him. My body ached to be filled by him. I clung to him as he guided his cock to me, pressing the tip of it into my entrance. He breached me, and the whole of my body locked up. Electricity surged through my naked veins, puckering my tits and swelling my clit. With every inch my pussy swallowed down, I gasped for air. My head fell back to the door as he kissed my neck. My chest. Wrapped his lips around my barely-there breasts and lapped at my aching peaks.

  “Oh, shit,” I gasped.

  He pounded into me with the fury of the wild beast I knew was trapped within him. He pinned my wrists to the door above my head, sucking my tits and marking them as his own. My pussy clamped around him as he swiveled his hips. Ground his wiry curls into my swollen nub. I jumped and moaned. I groaned as my eyes rolled back. Fire ignited in my mind and burned the brush of questions I had for him.

  He inhabited my body and used it for his own nefarious deeds.

  And I loved every second of it.

  My juices poured down his shaft, coating his cock and his balls. My legs quivered with their last aching breath, and my body finally gave way to him. My pussy relaxed and my eyes fluttered closed. Every part of me latched onto Notch as he slammed against me, time and time again. The sounds of wet skin slapping wet skin filled my apartment and his musky, salted ocean scent held me captive as I breathed him in.

  His lips hovered over mine as I whimpered and begged for more.

  “Please. Notch. It’s been—so long—I—please—”

  “That’s why you’re so tight for me, beautiful. So good for me. Take what you want. You know you want to.”

  “Holy shit!”

  The proclamation from my lips didn’t even fully get out as my body spiraled. His hips stuttered as his cock grew against my trembling walls, milking him for all he had. I felt alive. For the first time since I’d come to the States, I felt alive. Good. Pure. Wanted. I gasped for air as my back arched. My tits pressed into the slats of his chest, feeling his muscles twitching with every movement of pleasure he bestowed upon me.

  And when his cock finally burst, his teeth latched onto my neck.

  “Fucking hell,” he growled.

  I collapsed against him as he filled me. Pumped me full of his hot threads of cum. I panted for air as his fluids dripped from my entrance, coating my ass and my thighs. I was marked by him. Marked by the man my brother was hunting. Marked by the mysterious man with the intricate tattoos and the lies that fell from his tongue.

  But his passion wasn’t a lie. His body wasn’t a lie. Those growls weren’t a lie.

  Because the evidence seeped down my skin.

  He pulled out from between my legs and helped steady me onto my feet. My head fell back against the door as his body relaxed against mine. My face barely fell into his chest, he was so tall. Or, maybe I was so short. Either way, I felt blanketed by him. I felt comforted and safe.

  I’d never felt that way with someone before. Not with the life my parents led. Certainly not with the life my brother led.

  The life I was trying to run away from.

  “Hi,” I said breathlessly.

  Notch chuckled. “Hello, Maya.”

  I moaned so
ftly as my name fell from his lips.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  He slowly backed away from me, the question filling the space between us.

  “Sure,” he said.

  I quickly reached down for my clothes and got dressed, and he followed my lead. This wasn’t the kind of conversation to have while naked in my apartment. I stole glances at him and found him staring at me. He winked every time I caught his eye, and it made me blush. Grin and giggle, like a damn schoolgirl.

  “I like your laugh,” he said, smiling.

  “I like your tattoos. Could I know more about them?” I asked.

  He paused. “That’s the question you wanted to ask?”

  I shrugged. “Is it a bad one?”

  “Not really. Just not what I was expecting.”

  “What were you expecting?”

  He paused before he spoke. But that pause told me everything. He was thinking. Conjuring. Planning.

  Which meant he was about to lie.

  “I honestly thought you were going to ask for my number,” he said, chuckling.

  I shrugged. “Not really necessary. Whenever the shop is shut down, my work phone forwards things to my cell. You technically already have my number, if you need it.”

  “And what if you need mine?”

  “Caller ID,” I said coyly.

  He grinned as the two of us finished getting our clothes on.

  “What tattoos are you wanting to know about?” Notch asked.

  “Any of them, I guess. The pile of dust with the date. The blazing Phoenix on your left shoulder blade. That one that says ‘Lost something or other?’” I asked.

  His eyes snapped over to mine as he pulled his leather jacket onto his body.

  “‘I Am A Lost Boy’?” he asked.

  “That’s the one. Kind of an odd saying. I was wondering where it came from,” I said.

  “Comes from nowhere, hence the statement. I come from nowhere, and I will end up nowhere.”

  “But you’re an EMT. Surely you’ve ended up there, right?”