by Jennifer Ann
Stone kisses his way back up my body before tilting my chin down and claiming my lips. I melt against him, utterly spent.
“I could do this all day,” he whispers, collecting me off the vanity and gathering me in his arms. Nuzzling my face, he releases a heavy sigh. “If I put you in even more danger by bringing you out here—”
“Stop,” I warn. “I was going to do this with or without you. Having you come along was an added bonus.” I pull away from him, grabbing a fistful of hair behind his head to get his full attention. My insides turn to butter with the protectiveness in his beautiful blues. “I’m no longer the scared kid you found in that apartment building, so quit feeling like you have to protect me.”
Nostrils flaring, he shakes his head. “Believe me, I know that. You might just be the bravest woman I’ve ever met. It’s part of the reason I couldn’t walk away from you.” Taking my face in his hands, he works his jaw while his eyes move back and forth between mine. “I’m only this way ‘cause I’m scared as shit what would happen if I lost you…I’d lose my fuckin’ mind. Or maybe it’s ‘cause I know somewhere deep down that I don’t deserve you, and this is only temporary…until you find someone better.”
“That’s bullshit. Do you seriously not realize how amazing you are? The first time you kissed me, I kept thinking there must be a million women who’d give anything to be in my shoes.” A ball of sadness becomes heavy against my chest. He wouldn’t say such things if he knew the reason why my father kept me close all those years. With tears filling my eyes, I stroke my fingers along his square jaw. “Stone, there’s something you deserve to know. When I—”
Someone pounds on the outside door to our room, then a man shouts my name.
“It’s them,” I say, feeling a sudden rush of adrenaline. If this MC learns of my ties to the Martyrs, things could go south real quickly.
“Get dressed,” Stone commands, bending to gather his clothes. He tucks his pistol into the back of his jeans before turning to me. The severity etched into his handsome face sends shivers racing down my back. “Stay right behind me until I’m sure it’s clear. Understand?”
Nodding, I slip the long t-shirt Zoe picked out over my head with trembling hands before following him into the other room. Fingers spread across the skin of his warm, sexy back beneath his t-shirt, I inhale a deep, calming breath as he opens the outside door.
I peer around Stone to find two handsome men decked out in jeans and leather. The larger of the two sports tattoos on his neck and a man bun that somehow makes him look even more masculine rather than hipster. He’s intimidating enough that I’d be cowering in fear if it weren’t for the equally intense, scary man at my side. The other man—light brown hair in envious loose curls around his fierce jaw, blue eyes nearly as alluring as Stone’s, tattoos covering both arms—swaggers like he owns the joint. He pauses to study Stone thoughtfully before cutting me a sideways glance. If it weren’t for the tough-as-nails, petite brunette also wearing a biker vest who appears to take his hand, I’d think he was coming onto me with the flirty smirk pulling at his plush lips. But the way the gorgeous woman’s chestnut glare burns a hole through me, there’s no mistaking they’re together.
Apparently the motorcycle clubs in California are on a different level than the Martyrs. This crew looks like they just came from a movie set.
“I hear you’re lookin’ for me, darlin’,” the shorter of the two men drawls in a deep voice.
Jaw jutted, I eye the PRESIDENT patch on the man’s chest. “I’m Andie,” I concede with a nod. “We came a long way to give you a heads up. You’re gonna want to hear what I have to say.”
9
Stone
I’ve had a lifetime interacting with all types both while surviving the South Side, and while chasing terrorists in the godforsaken desert. Assholes, crooks, cowards…I can usually pick them out by their body language, before they’ve even opened their mouths. I’ve also met a shit-ton of good, honorable men and women who served alongside me. Pretty easy to detect the true intentions of a person when shaking their hand, so I reach out to the guy wearing a president’s patch. “I’m Stone. She’s with me.”
“Colt,” he replies, giving my hand a firm grip. “This here’s my wife Harley, and my VP Ranger.”
I tip my chin to acknowledge the other two. They’re each intense in their own way, but I’d bet my Fat Boy they’re decent, respectable people. “Let’s discuss this inside.”
Colt hesitates, eyebrows shooting upward. “You carrying, Stone? No offense, man, but one can never be too careful.”
Bringing my pistol out here was illegal as fuck, but I wasn’t going to agree to this plan without a way to provide Andie with the highest level of protection. Remembering what she said about their club being comprised solely of veterans, I say, “Been carrying ever since I finished serving in the Corp. Too many lunatics out there.” Then I slowly take my Beretta out from behind me and set it on the dresser beside the flatscreen TV.
With a cocky smirk, Colt steps into the room alongside his wife. “Ranger was a jarhead too.”
Ranger moves in behind his president, holding his fist up to bump against mine. “Good to meet you, brother.” Then he dips his chin and winks. “He’s just jealous because he was a damn squid.”
I chuckle, instantly taking a liking to the dude. Wrapping a protective arm around Andie’s waist, I close the door behind them.
“It’s going better than I hoped,” she whispers in my ear.
“Haven’t told them shit yet,” I remind her.
We join the bikers in the small living area where Colt and Harley have settled on the couch. Ranger lingers at their side like a loyal guard dog. I take the arm chair across from them, pulling Andie into my lap. Before her ass cheeks have hit my thigh, she blurts, “The Martyrs of Mayhem are planning to ambush your deal with Terrance Fisher.”
Colt and Ranger exchange a dark, intense look.
“I don’t know any of the details, just that their president’s out for your blood,” Andie continues. “Smalls—the Martyr you killed—was his oldest friend.”
Colt eyes Andie with an overly friendly smile that has my hackles rising. “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, darlin’.”
“Cut the bullshit,” I snarl. “She’s not your fuckin’ darlin’, and she’s not a cop.”
“Stone,” Andie warns, turning to me with a tight scowl. “Dial it down. They’re not the enemy.”
“Why so hostile?” Colt sneers behind her. “You invited us here.”
“He’s upset because someone hurt his girl,” Harley intercedes in a sultry voice. She sits tall beside her husband, wrapping her arm through his while meeting my stare. “Am I right?”
Beneath the woman’s probing look and Andie’s irritated expression that only makes her hotter than shit, I cave. Shoulders rolling forward, I nod and wrap my fingers with Andie’s. “She was an old lady to one of those dirtbags—not by choice, either. She’s earned the right to see them brought down by anyone with big enough balls to get the job done.”
With a short laugh, Colt leans forward. “Alright, brother. You have our attention. What I still don’t understand is what’s in it for you? Why travel all this way to help a group of strangers you’ve never met?”
“Anyone ever hurt your wife?” I ask with a hard shake of my head. “Ever wanna end someone for doing her wrong?”
“Fuck yeah.” With a fierce look, Colt turns to his wife and touches her cheek, causing her eyelids to flutter shut. “Too many goddamned times.”
In the same moment, Ranger crouches to sit on the arm of the couch, gently squeezing Harley’s shoulder. She reaches up to thread their fingers together. The way the men regard her is equally protective and…intimate. The exchange between the three of them is unusual enough that I assume they’re all together in every sense of the word. Guess being a biker in a club has the same kind of benefits as playing guitar in a band.
“Then you know how badly I
want to see these assholes brought down,” I say. “We’re also here as a courtesy to you, bein’ that you’re fellow veterans and all.”
Colt acknowledges me with a dip of his chin. “Appreciate the gesture.”
“I wish I had more information for you,” Andie tells him with a resolved sigh. “Obviously I wasn’t allowed to go along when they discussed the details. All I know is their president specifically has it out for you, Colt. And they’re in a shit-ton of debt, so they really want their hands on those weapons.”
“Terrance Fisher is a piece of shit,” I growl out between barred teeth. “Hope you weren’t planning on trusting him in all of this either. His loyalties lie with no one but himself.”
Colt sniggers. “Don’t worry, brother. We’re well aware of his business ethics, and we’ve planned accordingly.”
From where he sits behind the husband and wife, Ranger eyes me hard while running his fingers through his beard hairs. “How do we know you still don’t have other motives?”
“We’re gonna need a good show of faith,” Colt agrees. “The deal isn’t set to go down until Saturday. You better plan on stickin’ around until then, spend some time at our clubhouse. Same goes for the other two guys you brought along. You understand, right? Wouldn’t want to have to be forceful about it, considering you seem like reasonable people with honest intentions.”
“Seems fair,” Andie answers, squeezing my hand. “I can get why you would be skeptical of us showing up with a half-assed warning. But the Martyrs are dangerous—they need to be stopped. They’ve hurt too many people already. I’d hate to see them hurt any of you.”
“You did the right thing by comin’ to us, darlin’.” Colt stands, helping his wife up while winking Andie’s way. “As far as I’m concerned, they’re done doin’ damage.”
Takes everything I’ve got not to call him out on the darlin’ thing again, but his wife seems to be okay with it, so I let it slide. I slide Andie back down to her feet before rising to shake Colt’s hand. “Thanks for agreeing to meet with us.”
“I should be the one thanking you.” He eyes the bag Andie packed that sits on the bed. “Grab your things, and we’ll take you to the clubhouse. A couple of you can fit in Ranger’s pickup. The other two can ride on the back of mine and Harley’s bikes.”
Feels a bit hostile that they don’t trust us enough to take our rental, but I’m not about to push this guy.
“We’ll treat you right,” Harley tells us, throwing Andie a sincere smile. “It’ll be more like a mini-vacation.”
Though I highly doubt that’s the case, Andie seems content with the arrangement, and that’s good enough for me.
Andie and I are set up in a dumpy little bedroom in the rear of the clubhouse, across a hallway from Bender and Rook. I can’t tell what’s going through Andie’s pretty head when she side-eyes the bed.
“This reminds me of the room I had as a kid,” she tells me, running her fingertips along the black bedding. “Stinks like it too.”
Sniffing the air to find it thick with nicotine, I reach for her hand and pull her down on the bed beside me. “My parents smoked too.” I wrap her in my arms and inhale her cherry scent. “Surprised I haven’t seen you with a cig since the night we met.”
“That’s because I fucking hate it,” she confesses with a little hitch in her voice. Scooting back until her ass is pressed against my dick, she wraps her arms around mine and lets out a heavy sigh. “I hate it more than anything…only started because everyone around me was always doing it, and I needed some kind of release. But I wish I never would’ve started. It reminds me too much of my mother.”
“Getting the feeling you two weren’t close,” I say. When she doesn’t respond, I kiss the top of her head. “I hated my old lady more than anyone after my brother died.”
Andie’s sharp gasp pierces the room. My own reaction to the confession isn’t too far off from hers. Since when do I open up to chicks? Since when do I open up to anyone?
“When did he die?” she whispers, clinging to me a little tighter.
“Right after I turned thirteen. Carson was my parents’ pride and joy. Never missed the honor roll, and had just signed with the U to play football. He was the first kid from the South Side I’d ever known who had a real shot at getting away, becoming a success. You’d think I would’ve resented him for it, but I was too busy looking up to him…tryin’ to walk in his big footsteps…kissin’ his ass every chance I got. That night, when he asked me to cover for him as he was sneaking out the window, I didn’t notice he was already drunk off his ass. Was too excited by his praise to care that he’d been fighting with our parents earlier. Didn’t occur to me that he was doing a bad thing until we got the call from a State Trooper, sayin’ he died in a head-on crash…told us later on his blood alcohol was twice the limit.”
Andie spins around to face me, eyes filling with tears. “You can’t hold yourself responsible for what happened. Even if you knew enough to try talking him out of it, he probably wouldn’t have listened anyway.”
“Then how’s it fair you hold yourself responsible for what happened to Sasha?” I scold, cupping her face in my hands. “Far as I can tell, you’ve been through more than enough shit for one lifetime, lil’ mouse. Time to forgive yourself, and realize sometimes things happen that are outta your control. You have nothing to do with what your father and those dirtbags did to her—in no way are you responsible.”
“You have no idea what you’re saying. You don’t know me as well as you think.”
“I know enough to never wanna see you go through any bullshit like this again. I know once we’ve taken care of your old man, I wanna spend every waking minute with you. Far as I’m concerned, that’s the only thing that matters.”
Tears tumble down her face. I brush my lips over her wet cheeks before claiming her mouth. She answers with a hardened urgency that quite honestly scares the fuck outta me. Whatever she thinks she’s done that would make me hate her doesn’t matter. I’ve done more than my share of deplorable shit. But whatever skeletons she’s carrying around are clearly eating her up inside.
I make love to her before she falls asleep, limbs twisted around mine in knots.
Far as I’m concerned, she’s my girl no matter what happens next.
I wake to the heavy aroma of bacon, and find Andie gone. Shit. Panic clenches my throat as I fling the blanket off and throw on the first pair of jeans I can find. Gotta be more attentive of her whereabouts until this shit with her old man and his club is over.
Rushing out to the gathering area, I cross my arms and take in the sight before me of my girl eating breakfast among dozens of men and women in leather cuts. The air’s thick with their laughter and conversation. Never occurred to me how at home she’d feel among bikers and old ladies when Colt requested we hang with them until the deal goes down. Makes me downright livid when I imagine her sitting alongside the two men who forced her into that lifestyle every fucking morning.
Andie notices me and all at once stops talking. My balls tighten with her beautiful smile as I start for her side of the table. Planning to do whatever it takes to see her smile like that from here on out, even if I have to join a goddamn biker gang.
“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” she teases, patting the empty chair at her side. “Come sit—Harley saved you a plate.”
The women around her all fall silent, staring as I settle into the chair. Frowning back at each of them, I shrug. “What?”
Andie’s arm loops through mine as she leans into my arm. “Guys, this is Stone.” She dips her head and tells me in a lower voice, “These women started their own MC.”
Harley comes in behind us with a plate in hand. I turn in time to catch the insignia on her vest. “Jawa’s Angels?” I ask.
“Jawa was a nickname my father picked up over in Desert Storm,” Harley explains, setting the plate down in front of me. “I wanted to do more than sit around and be someone’s old lady.”
“Tha
t’s respectable,” I say, grabbing the fork and digging in to a pile of scrambled eggs. I pause to catch her amused expression. “Thanks for the grub.”
“Andie, you failed to mention your man was crazy hot,” one of the women scolds in a playful tone. Looking up, I find a curvy brunette watching me with raised eyebrows. “How long have you two been together?”
I grunt and pull Andie against my side. “Not long enough.”
Just as I suspected, they’re a friendly bunch, and go out of their way to make us feel at home. Ranger even invites me to join a few of them on a run, offering the use of a spare bike. Andie stays behind with Rook and Bender, choosing to spend the afternoon with Harley and a handful of women from Jawa’s Angels. The fresh, California air and the vibration of the bike clears my head and calms my nerves somewhat, especially when I decide we did the right thing by trusting this crew.
We pull back into the clubhouse parking lot as Colt and a few of the guys are firing up massive grills. When Andie comes into view, she runs at me and jumps into my arms, wrapping her legs around my waist and kissing me like we haven’t seen each other in weeks. The trip out here seems to have brought out her carefree side. Can only hope this is the way it’ll always be once we’ve taken care of the Martyrs and Fisher.
We hang out with Colt and crew late into the evening. Me and Andie don’t drink much, but Bender and Rook get fired up. Bender gets hot and heavy with one of the women from Harley’s MC, and they disappear for a few hours before coming back with matching grins.
Turns out Ranger has a wife, too, and Andie already seems to have formed a bond with her and Harley. The three women hang together in a corner where they’re either laughing or engaged in serious conversation whenever I glance their way.
Can’t shake the uneasy feeling that after the Martyrs arrive, I may not see her this relaxed ever again.
