Bear (Kings of Carnage MC - Prospects Book 4)

by Carmen Jenner

  “Both,” she says.

  I clench my jaw and nod, staring at the crowd above her head. “Well, we better let you get back to your fans.”

  I turn and push through the people milling around, trying to talk to the woman of the hour. She could have any one of these assholes with the snap of a finger. I need to remember that. What happened in that studio was solely because she needed the money. And I guess the alleyway was just a fluke, a way for her to blow off steam. It was more for me, because I’m a fucking idiot, because I like to punish myself. None of that speech I fed her meant anything—not to her.

  “Tennessee?” she calls, but I keep moving, knowing that she’ll be swarmed by guys who want to talk to her. And using that to my advantage, I make a quick getaway.

  I don’t bother to wait for Crow to catch up before I’m hopping on my bike and riding the hell out of there before I can make an even bigger ass of myself.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Jupiter

  Two days later

  It’s late at night when a bike pulls up to the front of the shop. I breathe an angry sigh and close my eyes.

  “Fucking biker,” I mumble and grab the bottle of whiskey from the workbench. I screw off the cap and take a sip straight from the lip. I’m going to need to bathe in this shit if my life gets anymore screwed up.

  Between the money Ruin gave me and the race two nights ago, I’m halfway to getting what these drug dealers are demanding, but they aren’t going to wait forever. I might need to get naked and film with Bear again just so we have enough. Hell, maybe I’ll call Ruin and have him pair me with Crow just to piss Tennessee off. All I know is, I can’t ever let Bobby Ray know how I got the money because it will break his heart.

  Gravel crunches under Tennessee’s boots as he walks around the garage to the back door and I set the bottle down and pick up the wrench, going back to my work. I have my baby over the pit, finetuning the engine.

  “You just don’t know when to give up, do you?” I ask.

  He doesn’t answer, but his footfalls are heavy as he moves toward me. Tennessee stops at my back. I can feel his warm breath on my neck, but the scent of his aftershave is all wrong, like Old Spice with a stench of body odor, and Bear doesn’t smoke.

  “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, bitch.” His voice is all accented gravel. Cajun, I think, and it sends icy fear sliding down my spine. “But you’re right. I don’ give up.”

  Rough hands grab me from behind, sinking into my hips, but I struggle and pull free. I grip my wrench tighter and swing around, using the inertia to propel my weapon right into the side of his skull. The skin splits. Blood sprays my T-shirt and face. I strike him again and again. He drops to his knees, but I don’t waste time waiting to see if he’ll get up again.

  Another bike pulls into the lot. I don’t know why I didn’t hear it before, but this asshole’s shitty pipes had sounded like the devil. I know the sound of Tennessee’s bike, because I heard her purr every day for more than a week. I drop the wrench and run for the door. I didn’t think there would ever come a time when my feet would swallow up the ground just to be closer to him, but here I am, running toward him like he’s the only person who can save me from the mess I just found myself in.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Bear

  I frown at the bike parked behind the shop. It’s a Harley, but it’s a bigger piece of shit than my own. And I know it doesn’t belong to any of my brothers. They’d be embarrassed to ride that shit, which then begs the question: who the fuck is visiting my woman so goddamn late?

  Gravel crunches beneath my boots, alerting anyone inside to my presence. Not as though my pipes didn’t already do that. I’m just three feet from the door when it’s thrown open and Tink runs into my arms.

  “Whoa. If I’d known you were this excited to see me, darlin’, I woulda come an hour ago.”

  Her whole body is trembling. I stiffen because it isn’t from the cold. I rub my hands up and down her arms as she sobs. “Tink, what happened?”

  “H-he came out of nowhere. I thought it was you, and then I realized that I didn’t know the sound of th-that b-bike and I know the sound of yours. He didn’t s-smell like y-you. So I just swung and swung until he was on the ground.”

  “Who, darlin’? Who did you hit?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I release her and pull my gun from the holster beneath my cut. “I’m gonna check things out, okay? Stay here.”

  She nods and I aim my pistol as I walk inside. My gaze immediately falls to the body on the ground. I cross the shop floor and toe the asshole’s inert frame with my boot. He doesn’t move. I kick away the monkey wrench and lean down to check his pulse. Nothing. Holy shit. I knew Tink had fire, but she took down a man three times her size with a goddamn wrench. If I wasn’t so fucking proud, I’d be frightened.

  Still, as tough as she is, she’s gonna be horrified when she figures out she ended a life. I glare down at the fat fuck—he has a grey beard, wiry hair in a fucking mullet, and a Bayou Bastards MC patch on his cut. Motherfucker. I lift my boot and bring it down on his head.

  “What the hell are you doin’?”

  I glare at her, removing my foot from the oozing cavity left by my boot. “Finishing it.”

  “He was already dead.”

  Her blue eyes meet mine, and I see confusion in them. My shoulders fall. She already knew.

  Her lips form a thin line. “You thought he was still alive?”

  “No. But I was tryin’ to save you the heartache of knowing you killed a man.”

  She glances at the body, at the mess I made of the asshole’s head, and she races across the floor, stopping only when the toes of her boots are almost touching mine. “You’d do that for me?”

  I scoff. “Hell, baby girl. I’d do just about anythin’ for you. I’m surprised you don’t know it already.”

  She lifts one small shoulder in a nervous shrug. “Well, for a smart woman, sometimes I can be a little dense.”

  A half-smile creeps across my lips, but it quickly disappears, and I flinch when she runs her fingers through my beard, slides them into my hair, and tugs me down to her so I’m just inches from her mouth. I feel like I’m always walking a tightrope around her, torn between my natural alpha Daddy instincts to take, to punish, and to care for her. Yet I’m still living in my head, still living in a war zone. I have to be careful here.

  “You don’t like to be touched?” Her eyes are sad and imploring as they search mine.

  I furrow my brows. “Depends on who’s doing the touching and where.”

  “What if the someone is me?”

  “Baby girl, I might flinch a little from time to time if you catch me off-guard, but you can touch me whenever and wherever you like.”

  “Good, because I’m gonna kiss you, Tennessee, and I can’t be held accountable if my hands start wandering.”

  She stands on her tiptoes and purses her lips. It’s clear even with me bent double that she needs a little encouragement, so I lean closer, wrap my hands around her waist, and press my lips to hers. She melts into my touch. My tongue pushes inside her mouth, and she moans as I slide my hands down her back to cup her ass. Fire courses through my veins, and I envelop her body in mine, my hands kneading her Georgia peach cheeks as she squirms to get closer.

  My dick presses against her belly, and she climbs me like a damn tree until I’m forced to grab hold of her as she wraps herself around me. My splayed fingers tease the seam of her jean shorts. She snakes her arms around my shoulders, and I walk us to the workbench, swiping aside tools that clatter to the floor. Her gaze follows their descent and lands on the dead body. My eyes dart across the mess of brain and bone fragments and my bloody boot prints to the bench. Between life on the Teams and life in the MC, I’m used to seeing this kind of shit, I’m used to being the one to cause it, but that doesn’t always make it easy. But I’m guessing this is a first time for Tink because her eyes grow wide, and she loo
ks like she might pass out. Either that, or she’s only a few seconds away from blowing chunks.

  “Shit,” I murmur. “I’m sorry, baby girl. I fucked up.”

  “Oh, God. I am a terrible person.”

  “It was self-defense.”

  “Not for killing him—for making out with you right next to him. What the hell am I going to do with a dead body in my shop?”

  “I’ll call in the clean-up crew.”

  Her eyes grow round as saucers. “You can’t let anyone in here.”

  “We’re a biker club, darlin’. Trust me when I say this is nothing compared to the carnage we wreak every day.”

  “Right.” She nods and buries her face in her hands as I step back to make the call.

  I pull out my phone and bring up Ruin’s number. “I need a crew.”

  “Well good evening to you too, asshole,” Ruin says.

  “What’s up, motherfucker?” Sterling shouts in the background. Crashing and whoops of excitement follow through the receiver. They must be having another one of their movie nights—something Ruin, Sterling, and Saint have all been doing a lot more of since they paired up with their old ladies and patched in.

  “I need a clean-up crew here now. Those Bayou Bastards came after Tink.”

  “The fuck?”

  I nod as if Ruin can see me. “It’s been handled, but the shop could use a tidy up.”

  “Okay, we’re on our way.”

  “Prospects with you?”

  “Yeah, they’re here. Saint just left, but I’ll make the call.”

  “Mm-hmm. See you soon, brother.” I hang up and slide the phone back in my pocket. “They’re on their way.”

  Tink lets out a long sigh and her throat bobs as she swallows. “Ruin?”

  “Yep. Sterling, too, and a few others. They’ll be by in a little bit. You got a spare change of clothes?”

  “There’s an oversized hoodie in my office.”

  “It’ll do. Take off your shorts and T-shirt.”

  “What?”

  “We gotta burn our clothes and destroy the evidence. I’m not having this come back to bite us in the ass.”

  “This shirt is vintage.”

  “And now it’s fuel.”

  Her lips pinch together. “I’m not letting you burn it.”

  “Okay then, baby girl. Send me a postcard from prison. I’m sure you’ll find a Mommy who’ll treat you real nice in there.”

  “I’m not getting naked here.”

  “Darlin’, I’ve fucked that sweet little pussy of yours twice already and you were practically riding my dick in front of a dead man a second ago. Now you got your panties all wadded up over a fuckin’ T-shirt?”

  “I’m not wearing panties.” She scowls and turns on her heel, but I reach out and grab her arm.

  “Leave ’em here. Your boots too.”

  Her jaw drops open. “These are expensive.”

  “So is a lawyer.”

  She huffs and meets my gaze. “You want me to strip?”

  I fold my arms and give her a no-nonsense look. “You want me to spank that attitude right out of you?”

  “Fine. I’ll strip.”

  “Good girl,” I deadpan.

  With an arrogant little chin tilt, she grabs the hem of her shirt and lifts it over her head. Her tits sway with the motion. Fuck. I bite my lip to keep from stalking over there, bending my head, and taking one of those cherry-red nipples in my mouth. She turns and bends over to unclasp the buckle on her boots, and I sigh impatiently as she waggles her ass and the too-thin seam of her shorts pulls skin-tight against that pert little pussy.

  Fucking littles. Why are they always the worst kind of cocktease? What’s even more infuriating is that Tink doesn’t even realize she is one.

  She kicks off her boots and slides her shorts down her hips and over her thighs. They fall in a heap on the floor, and she steps out of them and walks slowly to her office.

  I guess she wasn’t lying about the no panties thing. Jesus. This bitch is gonna be the death of me.

  Several beats later, I’m squeezing my semi to draw all the blood away from my poor, neglected cock when a van pulls into the lot out front. I don’t bother opening the door—not with the lights on and the possibility of wandering eyes from the street beyond. But I tread as carefully as I can toward the back door and open it for them. Sterling, Crow, Ruin, and Mako walk in wearing black hoodies and jeans, no cuts. I peel mine off and hold it out for Sterling to take.

  “What the fuck happened, brother?” He surveys a glob of brain matter as it slides free of the leather and splats on the concrete floor.

  “Those Bayou fuckers came after Jupiter—that’s what happened.”

  “She okay?”

  I nod and tip my chin in the dead motherfucker’s direction. “She did this.”

  “Jupiter caved a man’s skull in?” Crow’s brows arch high on his pretty-boy face.

  I frown. “Well, no. I caved the asshole’s skull in. She just wielded the monkey wrench that ended his life.”

  “Then why—”

  “Because I didn’t want that shit on her conscience.”

  Sterling narrows his eyes. “I like you, brother, but if you fuck with Jupiter, I’m gonna be forced to put my boot through your skull.”

  I fold my arms across my chest, because as much as the Uprising chapter has welcomed me with open arms, I don’t take threats lightly. I also don’t fucking appreciate what he’s insinuating. I’m not just fucking with this mouthy, grease-stained little princess who’s loved by the MC as if she were one of their own.

  “What exactly were you doing here?” Ruin waggles his eyebrows like a fucking eighth-grader, and I take a deep breath and resist the urge to punch him in the head. Sometimes I forget that while I’m closer to them in age than I am to their dads, the boys are almost ten years younger than me. They’re already wreaking havoc the way only club brothers can.

  “It ain’t even like that.” Most days I can’t decide if I want to fuck her or kill her. I unbutton my jeans and peel them off, tossing them on top of the corpse. Covering my junk with my hands, I stand there freezing my ass off while Mako, Ruin, and Crow all dick around. Sterling is still glued to the spot, giving me death stares.

  “Did you bring me a change of clothes or not?” A car careens around the side of the workshop and a door opens. I stiffen. “Who the fuck is that?”

  “It’s Saint,” Jupiter says from the office. I didn’t even realize she was standing there, but there she is in an oversized hoodie, staring at my naked-ass body, cataloguing every scar, every tattoo, as if she hadn’t seen it all before. I swallow hard and level her with a cold stare. Her throat bobs as she shrugs. “I’d know that truck anywhere.”

  “Don’t move,” Sterling says to Jupiter. “I’ll come get you so you don’t get dead motherfucker on your feet.”

  A growl reverberates in my chest. It’s not loud, likely only audible to Sterling and the guys judging from the vacant look on Jupiter’s face, but I just played my hand in front of the brothers, and now I’m never gonna hear the end of it. Hell, Sterling might fucking kill me for even looking at his friend. Or he could try. I’m one tough motherfucker to kill. Afghanistan couldn’t do it, my Sergeant at Arms fucking my old lady couldn’t do it, and the Twisted Snakes and the Bayou Bastards couldn’t do it, but again, he’s welcome to try.

  Saint opens the door and strides in, tossing a wad of clothing at me. “I only brought what I had at home. Might not fit your big ass though. Jesus, dude, they teach you how to cave a man’s skull in with your foot in the army?”

  “Navy. I’m ... I was a Navy SEAL.”

  “Uh-huh, they fucked you up good, huh?” Saint says, his eyes perusing my scars. He doesn’t look at them the way Jupiter did, though—not with a soft exploratory gaze. He’s looking at them as if they are a trophy. They’re not.

  I shove the clothing at Mako and yank off my boots, tossing them at the corpse. They have brain matter and
blood all over them, so they’ll have to be burned too. Fucking asshole just cost me a whole new wardrobe. I’ll be sure to hit him up for the bill when I get to hell.

  Mako passes me the clothing and I pull on the too tight jeans and hoodie. I can barely move. The brothers laugh.

  “It’s like someone poured the Stay Puft man into a tube top.”

  “Fuck you, cunt features.”

  Sterling bends and lifts Jupiter in his arms in a honeymoon hold. I track their movements all the way to the door. I make a move to follow, but Ruin steps in front of me, “Uh-uh-uh. Where do you think you’re going?”

  “I have brain matter in my hair. I’m going to shower.”

  “Let him go,” Sterling says, returning from outside, sans Jupiter.

  “You left her alone out there?”

  “She’ll holler if she needs us.”

  “Assuming one of those fuck knuckles doesn’t jab her in the neck with a needle or put a fuckin’ rag soaked in chloroform over her face. Yeah, I’m sure she will holler.”

  “I don’t want her in here seeing this any longer than she already did.”

  “That makes two of us, but they came after her earlier tonight. Who’s to say they won’t do it again?”

  “You. Congratulations, you’re on babysitting duty. Jupiter’s your responsibility now.” Ruin grins. “I mean, who better to keep her safe than a big, badass Navy SEAL, right?”

  “Did you say, ‘Keep her safe or kill her?’ ’Cause it could go either way with Tink and me,” I mutter.

  “I don’t think you really need to hear it, but she means a lot to us, so I’m gonna echo what Sterling said earlier. If you screw her over, we will fucking kill you.” Ruin shoves a set of keys at my chest, already perfectly at home with barking orders like he’s the prez barely a month after he was patched in. I shake my head and take the keys. “Take Saint’s truck. I’ll swing past her house and make sure her brothers find another place to stay for the night. We’ve already got Bobby Ray at the clubhouse.”

  I arch a brow. “Come again.”