Steel Cobras MC Complete Box Set: Books 1-6

by Evie Monroe

  Cullen smacked her ass. “Go on up to my room. This’ll only be a second.”

  The redhead asked, “Can I get a beer, first?”

  “Yeah, help yourself, darlin’,” he said, motioning with his chin toward the fridge.

  All the guys’ eyes were on her ass as she walked barefoot to the fridge and opened the door. It was Saturday night, and I’d bet every one of the guys had pussy on their mind. Cullen always got prime pieces of ass, women that were every man’s fantasy. But I couldn’t give a shit. This girl was nothing compared to what was waiting at home, in my bed.

  I wanted to get back to her.

  “So, I’m alone in this?” I ground out.

  “Looks like it.” Cullen’s eyes drifted to the ground.

  Fuck this. Fuck this, and fuck them. They could all go to hell for all I cared. I lifted my keys from the pocket of my jeans, ready to storm out, when Jet said, “Don’t say we didn’t warn you.”

  I gave him the finger. I stalked out of the room, to the back door.

  Before I could slide it open, Jet came up behind me and put his hand on my arm. He said, low, so the boys couldn’t hear, “You’re killing me, Nix. Since when does my big brother get pussy-whipped? You’re the legend, man.”

  Jet had always looked up to me. Especially with women. As a kid, he had a soft heart, too easily broken. I toughened him up. One of the things I made sure he did was not give a fuck when it came to women, because sooner or later, they’d fuck him. It was the first rule in my playbook.

  And maybe it looked like I’d thrown all my rules out the window. But I’d told myself I was protecting her. That was it. Once she was out of danger, I’d be gone.

  “For the last time. I’m not whipped. She’s alone. And she needs protection.”

  “Protecting her doesn’t mean licking her ass. Trust me. You’re too close. You’re acting like a fucking nutjob. Over a girl you just met. And it’s gonna get you killed.”

  Jet may have been brutal, but I trusted him to give me the straight shit. And yeah, if he said it, then the other boys were probably thinking it.

  Nothing I could do about it.

  I’d promised Liv I’d keep her safe. I had to see this through.

  “Listen. Nix. You know the last thing I want to do is turn my back on you. But you gotta think this over before you get yourself killed,” he said to me in a low voice. “I’m telling you. Right now, you’re riding blind.”

  Shaking his hand off my arm, I grabbed for the door handle, and as I did, the sliding glass door shattered, raining glass onto us.

  “Shit!” Jet hissed as we both hit the ground.

  Cullen yelled, “Get down!” but all the boys were already on the floor.

  We were under fire.

  Redhead started shrieking, her high-pitched screams loud enough to burst eardrums. She wouldn’t stop, even as she climbed under the kitchen table and curled into the fetal position. The rest of us grabbed our weapons. I dove through the shattered door and got off two quick shots as someone lunged behind the bushes at the edge of Cullen’s property.

  Jet followed right behind me, the two of us crouched behind the hot tub, but there was barely enough room for the two of us. “What the...you see ‘em?” he growled in my ear.

  I raised my head for a look. There was a line of scrub brush off Cullen’s fenced-in deck, before the steep drop off of the cliffs to the ocean. I saw the dark shape of someone hiding behind a skeletal creosote bush.

  Someone fired off a shot that whistled right over my hairline. I could feel the force of the bullet like wind through my hair. It had come from the side of the house.

  So there was that guy...and the one behind the bushes...I turned to Jet and quickly mouthed, “Two at least,” pointing them out silently. “Could be three.”

  Then I looked down and saw his white t-shirt was turning red at the shoulder.

  He’d been hit.

  “Are you—”

  I couldn’t get my question out because Cullen yelled to me from inside the house. “Get out of there, man. You’re a sitting duck, dude.”

  He turned a corner and fired off a shot, and the shooter returned fire, giving me a chance to get free. “Stay here,” I said to Jet. “But get down.”

  I jumped up and ran past the pool, diving behind the stone grotto as gunshots pinged off the fake waterfall. This was fucking something. Talk about catching us off guard. None of our enemies had ever come into the place where we held church. Even they considered the place sacred.

  Which meant these guys were true assholes.

  I lifted my head, getting a better vantage point on the guy behind the bushes. He shot at the house, and I retaliated. He recoiled as I got him in the shoulder.

  And in the second he turned away, I saw it, on the back of his jacket.

  The symbol of a burning bike.

  They were Hell’s Fury.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Olivia

  Nix was right. After that one memory, all the others came back with a vengeance. An hour after he’d left, I sat on the couch, reeling from what felt like a punch in the head. All the memories of my life had slipped right back into place.

  I remembered everything about my life, even things I shouldn’t have, like the street address of my childhood home in Monterrey and the names of my friends at Stanford, friends I lost contact with and hadn’t seen in years. I remembered the names of all the pets I had growing up, and every one of the many nannies I’d had over the years. All of my boyfriends—and yes, not a single one of them looked anything like Nix. It seemed like everything was back, clearer than before.

  I should’ve been happy. But it only made me more afraid.

  I had hundreds of memories of my father, each one colored by what was now proving to be a lie. I’d thought he was just a successful businessman, married to his job, doing his best to support his only child. An honest, hard-working man.

  But he was a criminal.

  What else about our relationship is a lie?

  How many other times had he put me in danger?

  The more I thought about it, the more incensed I became.

  I remembered what I’d been doing right up until the party at my father’s country club. For the past year, I’d been dancing for the State Street Ballet company in Santa Barbara, under the direction of Eloise Meyer. I was due to perform my first principal ballerina role in Carmen later that summer. Rehearsals had been intense. After spending all afternoon rehearsing, I’d showered at the studio, picked up the cake, and arrived at the country club just in time for my father’s fiftieth birthday party. I remembered feeling unsettled as I walked in. I’d been anxious about touring, wondering if I was good enough. I’d also been wondering if my father would even come to see the first performance the following week. I’d planned to give him front row tickets as a present, which I’d tucked into my purse.

  The next thing I felt were rough hands pinning me down and someone’s sour breath issuing orders in my ear. I’d been grabbed. Who knew where the tickets ended up?

  I needed to let Eloise know I was okay. I’d be damned if I was going to miss my first lead role. I’d worked too hard to get there. I’d call her as soon as I was out of this. If I was ever out of this and bust my ass to make up rehearsals.

  But first things first. I had to call my father and let him know I was okay.

  I picked up the landline attached to the wall in Nix’s kitchen and dialed my father’s office. It was the only number I knew by heart. His secretary answered. “Ruth,” I said quickly, “Hi. It’s Olivia. Can you put me through to him?”

  Ruth let out an audible gasp. “Olivia? Oh, Olivia! Yes. Right away. Your father has been so worried about you! Are you all right?”

  I smiled, thinking of the grandmotherly lady who never failed to wear embellished cardigans wherever she went. “Yes, I’m fine, I’m fine, thank you. I’m sorry if I worried you.”

  “I’m just so happy to hear from you, dear,” she gushed.
“And I’m sure your father will be relieved. I’ll put you through now.”

  I took a deep breath. There was a short pause, and then, “Honey?”

  “Dad?”

  “Oh, Ollie!” his voice was kind and sounded genuinely concerned. “You’re all right?”

  “I’m fine, dad. And I’m safe now. But dad…” I closed my eyes, trembling as the fear of that night invaded my brain. “Some men kidnapped me.”

  “The men who stole my car?”

  “Um” I paused, surprised at how unsurprised he was by my admission that I’d been kidnapped. It was almost as if he’d expected something like that to happen. “No. Other men. I bumped my head and I had amnesia, which is why I didn’t call until now.”

  “Where are you? I’ll have someone pick you up.”

  Right, of course. Why come yourself when you can send someone? “No. Dad. You don’t get it. The men who took me...I think they wanted to send you a message.”

  He didn’t speak for a long minute. Finally, he asked, “Me? What kind of message?”

  I let out a sigh. Was he really going to pretend that he was just some ordinary workaholic dad and dance around the elephant in the room, instead of giving it to me straight? “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”

  “I, uhm, I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ollie. Just tell me where you are and we can talk about this later.”

  Anger bubbled up inside me. So, was he really going to keep me in the dark? “Dad, tell me! If there’s something I need to know, then now’s the time.”

  He said nothing. I banged the kitchen wall with my palm out of frustration.

  “Fine. Look. I’m safe where I am. I don’t want to come home because those men are still out there. Until you figure out who they are and what they want, I don’t want to be around you.”

  “Olivia Amelie. Are you out of your mind?” His voice was hard. “You think staying away from me will solve your problems?”

  I looked around Nix’s apartment. I supposed I’d have to make myself comfortable, because my father was clearly in denial. “My problems? Seems like this is your problem. I just got thrown into the middle of it.”

  “Ollie, come on. Sweetheart.” There was guilt in his sweet-talk, and it made my stomach turn. “You need to come home. I’m the only one who can protect you.”

  “What, like you protected me before?” I shot back, rubbing my temple with my fingers. He was giving me a headache. “Dad. I can’t deal with this right now.”

  I slammed the receiver down on the cradle, tossed my head back, and screamed into the air.

  As I did, it occurred to me it wasn’t the first time a conversation with my father had resulted in me wanting to punch something. In fact, it happened often. Usually because he was never around for any of the important moments of my life.

  Back then I’d thought, he was a slave to his company, he wanted it to succeed. He was a good businessman. He wanted a good life for his family.

  I’d given him a pass.

  But now that I knew what kind of business dealings he was in, I wasn’t about to be so kind. Fuck him, I repeated, over and over again as I paced Nix’s apartment. I looked at his ashtray of cigarettes. I really wished I could take up smoking. Maybe it would calm my nerves.

  I sighed and looked around. If I was going to be staying here a while, I could at least make myself useful. It would also take my mind off how much I wanted to strangle my father.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Phoenix

  I crouched behind the rock wall at the pool, getting shots off when I could, wondering when these fuckers were going to run out of bullets so we could put an end to this madness.

  Gunfire rang out for a few tense minutes. From my position, I could see the place where Jet was hidden, but he didn’t raise his head. I hoped to hell he was okay. I didn’t spend all my time scraping by, raising him just so he could go and fucking die on me.

  My guys were in the house, getting off shots as well. Occasionally, I’d see one of their faces, peering out from the shattered windows. By now I counted at least five men out there firing at us. The gunfire kept coming. Fuck, these guys would not give up. The adrenaline pumping in my veins had started to mellow out, waiting for something else to happen.

  Hell’s Fury. They had to be desperate. They’d never have come out here on our turf unless they were after something.

  Or someone.

  Over the gunfire, I heard the roar of more bikes arriving. Cullen must’ve called the other Cobras to back us up.

  The shooters heard it, too, because they started to back away, shooting as they headed for their bikes. Slipping from my spot, I returned fire, chasing after them as they broke into a run and tore off down the street.

  Drake met me on the deck and the two of us went after them. Drake tore off after them, pumping his fists, getting way ahead of me. He was the all-American athletic type, until he’d gotten tangled with us.

  Drake stopped running and crouched and I ducked my head as one fired off a shot over his shoulder. When I got back up, the men had mounted their bikes, leaving rubber on the road as they tore away from us.

  I bent over, trying to catch my breath, and Drake did the same.

  “Hell’s Fury,” I breathed to him.

  “Yeah. Saw that. That was Blaze. Jig, too.”

  I could’ve been a prick and gloated, but I had Jet on my mind. Turning away from Drake, I ran to the back of the house where at least a dozen Cobras were blowing off steam over what had just happened. They were all pissed off that the place we held church had been violated like that.

  I spied a small pool of blood behind the hot tub, where I’d last seen Jet and followed the bright crimson drops through the shattered sliding door and into the house. Shards of glass crunched under my boots.

  The crowd of guys gathered in the living room parted for me so I could make my way to Jet lying on the sofa. Someone had helped him take his shirt off and Jet grimaced at his shoulder pain. That told me nothing. With my brother, there was no such thing as a small injury.

  I stood over him. Zain knelt there bare-chested, holding his wadded-up t-shirt over the injury. “He okay?” I asked Cullen.

  Cullen nodded. “It’s nothing. A scratch.”

  “Hey. It’s more than a scratch,” Jet put in.

  I exhaled, raking my hand over my face. “Thank fuck.”

  Zain grinned. “Pussy wouldn’t stop crying.”

  “Fuck you,” Jet shot back.

  “This might mess with your modeling career,” Hart said with a smirk.

  Jet’s scowl deepened as he looked up at Hart. “And fuck you, too.”

  “Don’t worry. You can still be a hand model,” Cullen deadpanned.

  “All of you can go fuck yourselves,” Jet said, wincing as he moved to get more comfortable on the couch. Something told he’d probably need a visiting nurse to take care of him.

  Drake joined the group and knelt in front of Jet with the medical kit. When he lifted his shirt, I saw the bullet had just grazed the area over his collarbone. Yeah, it was bleeding like a mother, but it was a scratch. He’d live.

  “Anyone else hurt?” I asked.

  Cullen shook his head. Fuck, only one injury among all these guys? I’d call that luck.

  As Drake began to patch him up, Cullen and I walked back to the kitchen, stepping over the shattered glass and surveying the damage. The normally immaculate house looked like a crime scene. Windows had been shot out leaving debris everywhere. His housekeeper would have a hell of a time the next time she came to clean.

  The redhead still cowered in a corner. Cullen said, “It’s okay, baby, it’s over. Go on upstairs and get yourself cleaned up.”

  Her eyes narrowed and filled with fire and she backed away. “Don’t touch me! What the hell was that, Cullen? I’m leaving!”

  He shrugged and turned his attention to me. I lit a cigarette to calm my nerves. He started to mumble to me in a low voice, “So there were fi
ve of them?”

  I took a drag and nodded. “Yeah. I saw Raven from Hell’s Fury. And four other guys I didn’t know.”

  The girl must have expected him to beg her, and when he didn’t, she whirled and let out an exasperated sigh before storming off. “Fuck you, Cullen!” She shouted.

  No loss to him. He’d have another one tomorrow.

  I offered him my pack of cigarettes and he took one. “Raven? What about Blaze?”

  “Didn’t see Blaze.”

  Drake must have overheard us talking because he chimed in with, “I saw Blaze. He was their lookout. Down by their bikes.”

  Cullen brought a fist down, hard, on the counter. Blaze was president and one of the original founding members of the club, and a mean son of a bitch to boot. He usually stayed behind the scenes and let the other guys do his dirty work. Blaze just being here showed that whatever they were after, they meant business. He never would’ve messed with us himself otherwise.

  I whistled out my frustration. “So what are we going to do?”

  “What can we do? We might have had a truce, but with this shit-show, they’ve declared war.”

  Hart wandered in and caught the last part of it. “So we vote?”

  Cullen nodded. “We vote. Come on.”

  We went back into the living room, where Jet was now sitting up, a bandage taped over his shoulder.

  “Let’s put it to a vote,” Cullen said, sliding down onto a chair. He’d lit up another cigarette and looked like he’d aged five years in a matter of hours. “All in favor of retaliation?”

  We all raised our hands right away. There was no other choice.

  They’d fucked with us one too many times. And now it was time to give them what they were due.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Olivia

  Keeping busy after that infuriating conversation with my father proved to be a lot harder than it sounded.

  Before the attack, I usually spent my Saturdays going out to dinner or for drinks with the other performers in the dance troupe.