DIRTY ALPHAS: The Alpha Bad Boy Collection

by Franca Storm

  Well, one of the reasons. The other? Only reason I came back to the club when Trig begged me to step in as VP. To end the Mavs by cutting the head off the fucking monster. By killing their Prez. Skinner. My demented prick of a father.

  Chapter 5

  ~Roxana~

  As I step out of the tattoo parlor, I rub my right shoulder after the long conversation the owner and I just had about it. I hate talking about it at all, but I hate looking at it day after day even more. The awful scar that is a stomach-churning reminder of the consequences of me letting my guard down.

  At least I got the good news that I wanted. It’s healed really well over the last two years and it can be tattooed over. It’s a relief. It means another step towards putting that awful day behind me. I’ve been holding onto it for too long and getting this tattoo is kinda my symbolic way of finally letting it go. The nightmares have lessened too.

  Until last night, I hadn’t had one in a few months. But the shock of the culprit’s son turning up here had dredged it all up. I hadn’t been prepared for that one. Holy shit. I’d overreacted big time. Ax doesn’t even look anything like Skinner. He doesn’t resemble him at all. And his attitude is different as well. Sure, there’s that same hard edge, but there’s a gentleness to him. It didn’t escape my notice that he took his time with me. He didn’t force it. He waited. God, he must have thought I was a virgin. It’s been a long time since I’ve slept with anyone.

  Perhaps I can use that as an excuse for why I’d spread my legs for him like a whore after barely knowing him a couple of hours. I can’t believe I did that, considering I hate his kind with a vengeance and that I know firsthand how messed up and dangerous the world he belongs to is. When he’d pinned me beneath him on my couch, I’d just intended to get him the hell off me. But he’d smelled too damn good. The musky scent of man mixed with leather and tobacco smoke. Mmm. And that look of desire in his mesmerizing blue eyes had drawn me in. It’d taken me over so suddenly that I hadn’t been able to handle it. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a man that close to me. And once I felt his hard dick rubbing up against me, all bets were off. In that moment, it didn’t matter where he came from, that he was a biker.

  It was his fault. The moment he’d walked into the diner, the spark of sexual tension between us had been lit. By him. He’d taken it to a sexual place with his innuendos. He’s probably used to charming the panties off dozens of women with those lines. I knew that, yet I’d still let it affect me. Why? Because it had caught me off guard. No one challenges me. I own all the big shots in this city. No one mouths off to me and they certainly don’t tease me like he kept doing.

  I’m usually in control at all times. But with him, I feel like a deer in the headlights.

  I need to keep away from him. Getting mixed up with the likes of him is dangerous.

  I light up a smoke and make my way down the alleyway leading to the parking lot at the back.

  And that’s when I see the very person I’ve just convinced myself I need to stay away from.

  Shit.

  Ax is leaning against his bike, smoking a cigarette.

  “Shouldn’t be wearing something that tight right after getting inked,” he says, gesturing to my fitted black leather jacket.

  For a second, I wonder why he thinks I just got a tattoo. And then I realize that my free hand is rubbing my scarred arm again. Dammit. I pull it away quickly.

  “I didn’t get a tattoo. Not yet.” Not yet? Why am I telling him this? I don’t give strangers information about me.

  He drops his smoke and stubs it out with the heel of his motorcycle boot. He pushes off his bike and approaches me with long strides that close the distance between us shockingly quickly. I jump as a flame suddenly appears in his hand between us, just inches from my face. A silver Zippo. He grins, clearly amused that he just caught me off guard.

  “Your smoke’s out,” he tells me.

  I glance down at the cigarette in my mouth and, sure enough, it’s burned out. Probably because I’ve barely drawn a breath since spotting him here. Dammit, Rox. Get a grip.

  He leans in even closer and lights it for me. He pockets the lighter, but he doesn’t step back. It’s an act of intimidation. His grin disappears and his eyes bore into mine as he growls, “Let you off easy yesterday. I ain’t playing today. You feel me?”

  Adrenaline spikes through me at his obvious threat, kicking my defenses into overdrive. “This city is my domain, biker boy. Black Thorns isn’t welcome here. You feel me?”

  “That attitude’s gonna get you in some deep shit, woman.”

  “Yeah? How’s that?” I ask, blowing my smoke right into his face. Bitchy, yeah, but he’s pissing me off. No one threatens me. Not even Mister-Too-Sexy-For-His-Cut biker.

  He doesn’t even flinch. “Cuz the Mavs are outta your league.”

  “Guess you’d know, being the son of their President and all.”

  I see him flinch at that. It’s just a split second reaction, but it’s enough to let me know that I got to him. It’s his Achilles Heel.

  “You’re gonna give me the intel I want.”

  “I’m not giving you anything,” I snap, stepping back and walking to my car. “This hasn’t been fun, so don’t bother me again,” I call over my shoulder.

  He doesn’t follow me. With my peripheral vision, I see him standing there, his arms folded across his chest. What is he waiting for? Why isn’t he leaving?

  I haul open the driver’s door of my Hummer and slam it closed, extra hard for good measure. I roll down the window, so I don’t suffocate myself with my own cigarette smoke and shove my keys into the ignition.

  The fuel light flashes at me, blinking a red warning. No gas? I had three quarters of a tank when I left home this morning. What the hell?

  “Car trouble?”

  I almost jump out of my skin at the sudden sound of his voice right beside me. I turn to see him leaning against my door with his elbows folded casually on the ledge of the open window. He’s smirking.

  “You did this!”

  “Did what?”

  “Siphoned my gas, asshole.” I push against my door but his weight is too much. “Move,” I snap.

  Laughing, he steps back as I climb out of the car, toss my smoke on the ground, and storm around to the side. The gas cap is open and there’s a puddle of fluid on the ground. I should’ve noticed it before, but I was too caught up in my surprise at him being here. Urgh, Rox. You need to get a grip around him. “You seriously stole my gas? Who does that?”

  “Tell me what I wanna know.”

  I scoff. He thinks he can strong-arm me here? I pull out my cell and I’m just about to dial, when he says, “Calling your partner, Ralph Taylor? Ain’t he busy on the other side of the city dealing with some contractors at that diner the Mavs messed up yesterday?”

  My fingers still. How does he know that? About the diner repairs I organized? About Ralph being my partner? Shit.

  “Reckon that’ll leave you stuck here for a good couple of hours.”

  Scowling, I tell him, “I’ll call a tow truck.”

  “You’re really gonna waste favors right now?”

  Argh! He knows too much. I deal in favors. It’s my business. Protection in exchange for favors. Sometimes money as well. With the Mavs causing shit, I need to be careful. I don’t have an unlimited number of favors I can call in. And the bastard is right. I can’t waste them on stuff for myself.

  He steps into my personal space, looming over me threateningly. “You ready to talk now?”

  I react on instinct, thrusting my hands into his chest. He stumbles back a little, clearly surprised. He laughs, riling me up further and driving me to do it again. “You asshole!” I scream.

  His back jars against the fence behind him and I shove him again, wishing I could push him through it. But he grabs my hands this time, jerking me into him and holding me there. How dare he try to force me into submission? It inflames me further, my anger at him escalating t
o an uncontrollable rage.

  He leans down, his face just inches from mine. I don’t give him the satisfaction of looking away. There’s no way I’m letting him succeed in dominating me here.

  Our eyes lock as he growls, “Told you I ain’t playing nice now. This is just the start. I’ll keep coming. Gonna make your life a living hell, ‘til you cooperate and let me get my fucking job done here. That what you want?”

  “You underestimate my power.”

  “Yeah?” he challenges. “How’s that, babe?”

  “I can make you disappear.”

  Something flashes in his eyes then. Admiration? Is that it? He’s impressed by how dark I took it there? If so, that’s pretty messed up.

  “Be careful who you’re threatening.”

  “No. You be—”

  “Shut it!” he hisses, cutting me off. “Just fucking shut that smart mouth of yours.”

  I move to speak.

  His mouth crushes mine.

  And that’s not the shocking part.

  My reaction is.

  My fingers delve into his hair and I tug hard as I respond to his fierce, punishing kiss. He grunts and grabs my hips. My body reacts for me and I wrap my legs around his waist. His hands cradle my ass, squeezing tightly. His tongue slides into my mouth and a whimper escapes me at the feel of it. It’s soft, slow, sensual. And intense. Incredibly intense. I have to make a conscious effort to remember to breathe. One of his hands fists in my hair and he uses it as a handle to angle me the way he wants me. His dominance and roughness sends a shiver of excitement through me. Heat pools between my legs. Every nerve ending in my body is awake now. I can’t…I can’t control it.

  He pulls back all of a sudden and lowers me to the floor, pushing me away from him. He grins and then turns from me and stalks over to his bike.

  What the hell?

  Before I can even think about doing anything, my phone buzzes in my jacket pocket. I pull it out quickly and answer, “What?”

  “Rox, we finally got eyes on JT.”

  It’s one of my guys. “He’s back at his shop?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ve got this. Thanks.”

  I stow my phone back inside my pocket and look over at Ax. He’s swinging his leg over his bike. “Hey!” I call.

  His gaze snaps to mine.

  I pull my gun.

  ***

  Crazy bitch is actually pulling her gun on me. My eyes narrow as she shifts her aim to my Harley. The front tire. Hell, no.

  “You fuck up my bike and you won’t know what’s hit you.”

  “I’m the one holding the gun, asshole.”

  “Don’t give a shit. I’ll drop you on your ass so fucking fast.”

  She cocks it and approaches me slowly, one stride at a time. “Hand over the hose.”

  I smirk at her. “Yeah, want my hose, babe? Come here then.”

  She blushes and then tries to cover it up by screwing up her face. “Urgh. No. The hose you used to siphon my gas, dickhead.”

  “I tossed it.” The truth.

  I see her studying me, tryin’ to figure out if I’m bullshitting her.

  “Fine. Get off the bike.”

  “No.”

  She glares at me, her aim moving back to me, threatening a head shot.

  And then she blows out a breath of frustration and lowers her gun. I watch her flip the safety on and slide it back into the holster at her right hip.

  “Look, I might have a lead on the situation with the Mavs. The guy’s name is JT. He runs a gas station at the edge of the city. I have intel that says he’s had direct contact with some of their guys when they passed through the other day. He’s been underground since, but he’s just come up for air. I need to get there now and find out what he knows before he bolts again. But now…” she gestures angrily to her car. “Now, I can’t fucking get there.”

  I want that shit dealt with as much as her. I slap the saddle. “Get on.”

  “No. You get off.”

  This bitch is unbelievable. “You think you’re gonna ride my bike? Fuck, no. Now, you wanna get there on time, you get the fuck on. If not, I’ll go without you and make this guy talk my way. Your call.”

  I grab my helmet and hold it out to her.

  She comes over and stands in front of me, hesitating.

  “Trust me, woman, this ain’t no ideal situation for me neither.”

  That seems to piss her off and she bites back, “Oh, really?”

  “Yeah. You see me holding two helmets here? No. Why? I ride alone, babe. My rule. Nobody gets on the back of my bike. But you see a choice right now?”

  “If you hadn’t screwed with my car, this wouldn’t be happening.”

  “Yeah, well. You pissed me off. But we got bigger fish. Our agendas mesh.”

  She nods reluctantly and mutters, “Fine, but I’ve never ridden bitch before, so take it easy.” She must read the shock on my face, cuz she tells me, “Yeah, I know how to ride, biker boy.”

  She’s got me curious now. How does a woman who hates bikers so much know how to ride? I’d think she’d stay the hell away from bikes and anything to do with my way of life. Interesting.

  I push the helmet into her hands. “On. Now.”

  She glares at me for a second, not liking me bossing her. But then she puts it on, adjusting it quickly with the ease of somebody who knows what they’re doing.

  She hesitates yet again with getting on the bike.

  Fuck this. I grab her waist and haul her on behind me.

  “Don’t manhandle me!” she cries, slapping my arm.

  I smile to myself and start the bike while she shifts ‘round behind me.

  “Closer,” I tell her.

  She grumbles something under her breath.

  “Rox,” I growl, losing my patience with every passing second. “Move closer and wrap your goddamn hands ‘round me. You don’t and you’re gonna fly off the bike as soon as I gun it, babe.”

  With that, she moves forward suddenly, her thighs slamming into mine hard, letting me know she’s pissed at me. Fine by me. Just fucking turning me on. And I still ain’t calmed down from that misguided kiss earlier. She shifts, tryin’ to get comfortable, grinding her sweet little pussy against me. Goddamn. Her arms snake ‘round me then. Too high. I grab ‘em and pull ‘em down lower. It’s hard to tell with the rumble of the bike, but I swear I feel her tremble at my touch. I release her to take control of the bike and her grip loosens.

  That changes as soon as I speed outta the parking lot. She holds onto me tight. Real tight. Christ, every little touch from her is making my dick even harder.

  Gonna be a long ride.

  Chapter 6

  ~Roxana~

  Oh my God.

  This is too much.

  I’ve never been on the back of some guy’s bike before. I’ve only ever ridden alone, which is the way I like it. Just because I’m a girl, doesn’t mean I’ve ever been comfortable with the idea of riding bitch.

  But, even though I’m now on the back of a bike, it doesn’t feel like I actually am. Not with Ax. It kinda feels like we’re one entity, molded tightly together, moving together with the bike. It’s not what I’d thought it would be like.

  It’s making everything so ridiculously confusing.

  I told him yesterday that I hated him, because he’s a biker. And then, later that night we were fucking and then I was literally throwing up over the fact that he’s related to Skinner. I kicked him out of my house, telling him never to touch me again. Now…just a few minutes ago, we were making out in a burst of intense passion.

  I hate his kind and everything about that life. But something about him just…gets me. Well, hatred, or no hatred, I can still call a spade a damn spade. Ax is a hot piece of ass. A killer rock hard body. All height and muscle. Intense deep blue eyes that keep drawing me in. Thick sexy bed hair that I just want to run my fingers through and tug on. He’s a formidable force to be reckoned with. He doesn’t back down.
He gives everything right back to me.

  And I always like a good fight.

  Riding pressed up so tightly against his back is messing with my head. It’s actually making me feel a little lightheaded and kinda outside of myself. The smell of leather, his cologne and the lingering cigarette smoke is more than a little alluring. The smoke thing probably wouldn’t be to a non-smoker, but I do smoke, so I’m good there.

  The vibrations from the bike are making me wish I was wearing either looser pants or thicker ones to minimize the effects. I can’t ignore it any longer, so I shift behind him, trying to find a position that doesn’t have me enduring the vibrations through every part of my pussy.

  “You all right there, babe?” he calls over his shoulder. I can feel his rumbling laugh beneath my fingers.

  “Yeah, fine!” I call back, hoping he doesn’t get the real reason why I’m uncomfortable.

  I finally give up on finding another position and I rest my head against his back, blowing out a breath of frustration. Anxious and ill at ease—two feelings I’m not familiar with—I try to distract myself by cracking my knuckles. Fortunately, it’s still possible to do with my hands clasped around his waist. I’m barely aware of what I’m actually doing to him until I feel him shudder beneath me. Oops.

  I still my hands immediately.

  He turns his head slightly to the right, just enough to still be keeping an eye on the road ahead. His voice is rough and hoarse as he says, “Don’t stop.”

  I smile to myself. I’ve never been one to turn down a challenge of any kind, so I decide to mess with him, figuring there’s no way he’s gonna do what I’m about to tell him to, because he’s such a dominant alpha-male type. I lean forward and whisper in his ear, “Beg me.”

  The corner of his mouth turns up. “Please, babe.”

  What? It throws me through a loop. I’m not sure what to do. I end up deciding that the best bet is just to remain still.