by D. A. Young
“Five thousand dollars?!” Slade echoed, glaring balefully at Harley. “Now, you’re just playing a dangerous game when you fuck with someone’s money! That’s your fucking cut for our next three jobs, Harley, and you’re in charge of maintaining the clubhouse from top to bottom for the next two months. Every time I go to take a shit, the toilet I use better be spic-and-fucking-span, asshole! I don’t care if you have to suck off and fuck “Mr. Clean” himself to make it happen! Am I making myself clear?”
“Crystal,” Harley bit out.
“Learn some goddamn restraint, Harley,” Slade instructed. “It’s pretty simple. If I haven’t killed you yet for fucking up time after time, then anyone can do it. Watch and learn.”
His father sucker-punched him in the balls. Harley collapsed on the ground, grabbing at his privates as he twisted uncontrollably until the pain eventually subsided. Ransom leaned over and helped him up.
Slade and Blaze laughed while Harley kept silent, brooding. “Well, guess whose fuckin’ Glock stayed holstered?! See? Restraint, Harley. Utilize it.”
His disapproving gaze fell on Ransom. “You didn’t need to be here. Let Harley man the fuck up and take his responsibilities like one. What the fuck are you trying to be? His fucking mammy?”
“No, Prez. Just tryna make sure we’re all on the same page is all,” Ransom assured him, straight-faced. “Thank you for the pearls of wisdom, though. I’ll treasure them until the day I die. Hell, I’ll even have them sewn on my pillowcase so before I go to sleep at night, I can say a prayer that they truly sink in.”
Blaze howled with laughter while the smile slipped from Slade’s face. “Goddamn smart-ass! I don’t need this shit from either of you!” he snarled, “Fucking identical twins mean twice the fucking migraines!”
As they walked away, Slade advised his VP of what needed to be done. “Tell that Bimmerman cunt to get that driver relocated to fucking Timbuktu if she has to, all expenses paid! I don’t want the Aztecs putting shit together with a witness to confirm it! If she doesn’t agree to it, kill his ass and dump the body in her office. I’ll bet she’ll wish that she’d fucking listened to us then.”
Ransom waited until they were out of earshot to speak, which allowed his brother time to calm down from Slade’s ass-chewing. “You good, man?”
Harley raked a hand through his hair in agitation and gave his father’s back the finger. “I can’t stand that motherfucker! He’s always gunnin’ for me!”
“Why’d you shoot?” Ransom asked bluntly. “Even from where I stood, I could tell the form was female. You didn’t have to shoot her. What the fuck was she gonna do? She clearly wasn’t supposed to be there, so it wasn’t like she was gonna snitch on them, Harley.”
He watched his older brother fidget nervously, “Because she fucking disrespected me and my bike! That bitch needed to be taught a lesson.”
“Not by you or us! Christ, she was a fucking kid! Caesar woulda handled it.” Ransom inhaled a steadying breath. He was severely disappointed in his brother’s actions today, but Slade had berated him enough that Harley was in defense mode. Which equated to him not trying to hear shit else from anyone. Including his identical twin.
“Caesar didn’t know his ass from his head! If he did, then the little bitch wouldn’t have been there in the first place! He got her killed, not me! You’re supposed to have my back!” Harley retorted.
As identical twins, Ransom and Harley were inseparable and did everything together, including backing each other’s plays. Growing up, they shared most of the same friends and interests. They’d started growing apart by age eighteen when they were patched into the club. It was changing them. Neither wanted to admit it, but it was a fact. Today was proof of that.
There was also the matter of Pitch. Since getting out of jail, the two men had been disappearing in their free time. Harley was suffering from erratic mood swings that Ransom suspected were drug induced. He hoped like hell to be wrong, but all his instincts screamed otherwise. He was also convinced of Pitch’s involvement.
“And I do. When you’re right,” Ransom countered, stone-faced. “But when you fuck up, I’m calling you out on that shit. The club is watching us and how we handle ourselves. We’re the future. The oldest male in our family has been president for the last fifty years. It’d do you well to remember that. When Slade dies and you’re not looking and acting presidential, you’ll get challenged by many for the position.”
“And will you be one of those men, brother?” Harley asked coldly, hands curling into fists at his sides.
Ransom’s response was swift. “I’d do whatever is needed to ensure the title stayed in the Lawson family, brother. This isn’t personal business. It’s club business.”
Except, they both knew it was one and the same.
One week later
Tawny Richie leaned against the bathroom door, naked, while brushing her teeth. She loved watching the sexy occupant currently inhabiting her bed sleep. He was a fine specimen of a man with his lean, muscled body and broad chest sprinkled with a faint dusting of hair trailing down his torso to just above his happy package. And what a package it was. Just thinking about his thick, meaty cock and what Ransom Lawson could do with it had her pussy weeping with need.
She tiptoed across the room and slid back under the comforter to snuggle against him. With a sly grin, her hand reached between his legs, stroking him to attention.
“Wake up, Ransom. You got church in an hour, and I want to send you off real nice and proper like,” she whispered in his ear.
Although his eyes remained closed, Tawny was pleased to see that he was responding nicely to her touch.
Slowly, Ransom’s heavy lids opened, revealing green eyes that met the lust-filled brown ones of his pretty bed companion. Clearing his throat didn’t alter the sexy, gravelly pitch that was an uncontrollable turn-on for Tawny.
“Are you trying to tell me that you didn’t get enough last night, Tawny-girl?”
Her heart slowly ached at his playful words. If she wasn’t sure that Ransom wouldn’t be gone from her life before she finished speaking her heart, Tawny would confess her truth to him. That she would never have enough of him and if Ransom gave her a chance, she could show him that she’d make a fine Old Lady for him.
At the age of twenty-eight, Tawny had been with the Immortals MC for five years. Her husband, Hondo, was a member when they’d first met, and he’d done right by her with a wedding three months after their first date. They’d had four years together before he was killed in a shootout with the Reapers, a rival motorcycle club from Louisiana. It was natural for Tawny to mourn her husband, and she did so for a year until her body reminded her that she was a red-blooded woman with needs and desires.
However, in this lifestyle, you had to be careful who you spread your legs for. You had to consider if the sex was worth the trouble and reputation it could give you. As an Old Lady, Tawny wasn’t trying to lose the respect the title gave her, despite her constant state of horniness. Men had been sniffing around her since Hondo died, yet Tawny wasn’t looking to fuck just anyone. She wanted someone who knew how to be discreet.
She found that in Ransom Lawson.
His mother, Claudia, had taken Tawny under her wing when she’d first arrived on the MC scene. When she complained about her broken showerhead, Claudia sent Ransom to fix it. He’d hit her with that lazy smile as a greeting, and her body went haywire. When he removed his leather cut, she’d hungrily observed those sinewy arms flexing with each move. Tawny made up her mind to get him between her thighs. After Ransom was finished with the showerhead, Tawny propositioned him, stark naked, to assist in fixing her little bedroom problem. They’d now been fucking for two months. Tawny had never been happier. Not just with his performance or because of his good looks. It was because he’d chosen her over every available sweetheart, sweetbutt, and house mouse in the clubhouse.
Ransom was as good-looking as he was notoriously tight-lipped and selective. He never
hooked up with the scavengers circling the club, preferring to indulge on the road. They had a good thing going. Another reason she was better off keeping her mouth shut about her growing feelings for him. Tawny wanted to see how far they could go, despite Ransom’s quirks.
The biker had four rules when it came to getting ass:
Discretion
No unprotected sex
No eating pussy
And last, but most importantly, no kissing.
The last two really irked Tawny because she was dying to taste and feel what that sinful-looking mouth and that tongue could do. She was now slippery wet thinking about it. For now, she had no choice but to accept his rules.
“Mama needs just a little more, baby,” Tawny cooed, positioning herself over him, but Ransom stilled her movements by holding her hips steady.
He reached under his pillow for another condom. Biting her lips in anticipation, Tawny waited restlessly as he tore the square gold foil packet open and expertly sheathed himself in latex. Although she was clean and her husband was the only other man Tawny had ever been with, Ransom didn’t fuck around when it came to his dick and pussy. Under no circumstances could her snatch even brush against his shaft if the rubbers weren’t both provided by him and on him.
Ransom held his dick at the base, securing the condom before tapping her right ass cheek, indicating that she now had permission to climb aboard. Tawny threw her head back, sending her long, permed, light brown hair tumbling down her back as she sank down onto his rod. She gave an appreciative hiss as her pussy stretched to accommodate his girth.
“Jesus, Ransom, you feel so fucking good!” Tawny purred with a blissful smile.
She rode him enthusiastically, and Ransom enjoyed the view of her slender alabaster body writhing above him. Her large, heavy breasts bounced vigorously as he gripped her hips and surged upward. Per usual, it got too good, too soon. Tawny couldn’t help herself. She leaned down until they were faced to faced and begged, “Ransom, kiss me! Please, just this once!”
Instead of obliging her, Ransom drew himself into a sitting position and sucked her taut bubblegum pink nipple into his mouth. His fingers rubbed her sensitive clit, and over the edge she went. Tawny convulsed around him with a scream of ecstasy. Satisfied that she’d finally cum, Ransom rolled them over and quickly chased his release. Tawny held him close to her and rained kisses on his neck when he threw his head back and came with a shout, filling the rubber with the hot seed she secretly wished was inside of her instead.
As soon as he was able to catch his breath, Ransom rolled off her. He headed for the shower, leaving Tawny alone in bed to admire his muscled form.
“Need some help with your back, honey?”
“Nah, I’m good,” Ransom called tersely over his shoulder and shut the bathroom door behind him. After removing the condom, he relieved himself, flushed, and then brushed his teeth before getting in the shower. Under the stream of hot water, Ransom contemplated what to do about Tawny. With all the chaos going on in the club, pussy was the one thing Ransom insisted on enjoying drama-free. He’d rather catch a bullet than feelings. Shit was getting complicated, the main reason he didn’t do relationships.
He could honestly say that he liked Tawny. She carried herself with a quiet dignity that was refreshing in this rowdy lifestyle. Always ready and enthusiastic in the bedroom, Tawny sucked dick like it was her job. She always had good conversation for him whenever they were together. Ransom appreciated the way she respected the rules between them. Yet, lately, he’d suspected Tawny was seeking more from him than their casual fuck sessions. That kiss-begging bullshit confirmed it.
He finished his shower, dried off, and left the bathroom, stopping short at the sight of his clothes laid out, perfectly pressed. That sign of domesticity was another red flag waving blatantly in his face. If he wasn’t careful, next, she’d be cooking his meals and picking out baby names.
Fuck that!
Yeah, they had to talk. And sooner rather than later.
Quickly, he finished dressing as Tawny returned with two steaming mugs of coffee. “Here; why don’t you take one to go?”
“Thanks, Tawny. You didn’t have to do that.” Reluctantly, he took a mug, gulping it on his way to the door. If Ransom hadn’t needed the jolt of caffeine, he would have refused and jetted.
“Will I see you later?” There was no denying the hopefulness in her eager eyes. “How about dinner? It’s been a while since I cooked, with it just being me now. But now that we’re doing this…”
Her voice drifted off as Ransom rubbed his beard in consideration. It was obvious he was carefully searching for the right words to let her down.
Finally, he said, “Listen, Tawny, we should probably talk—”
“No, no,” she interrupted, holding a hand up, shaking her head in denial. Tawny already knew what Ransom would say if they did talk. “I’ll just see you when you’re free; like we…agreed. Go on, I don’t want you to be late.”
Ransom hated the dejected look on her face, but shit was what it was. He held up the mug.
“Thanks again for the coffee. See you around.”
Ritchie Valens “La Bamba” blasted loudly from the small radio in Claudia Lawson’s kitchen. She hummed and danced along to it while keeping an eagle eye on the sizzling bacon. A movement outside of her window above her sink caught her eye. Claudia smiled with maternal pride, watching her younger son stroll, with that lazy self-assured gait, across the courtyard toward his childhood home.
As usual, her baby was oblivious to the admiring looks he garnered from what Claudia disdainfully referred to as the Skank Patrol Pool. They eyed him ravenously like the pack of rabid bitches they were. With the briefest of nods, Ransom acknowledged their presence. Claudia felt a sense of pride at how different he was from the other men in their family. Ransom wasn’t a tail chaser and didn’t drop his trousers for every harlot’s pussy he got a whiff of.
He climbed the front porch and opened the back door, stepping into the spacious kitchen. Claudia greeted him with a warm smile that was reserved strictly for her children, and he kissed her cheek. “Hola, babyboy! Want some breakfast? I’m making eggs, bacon, and potatoes for burritos. There’s fresh pico de gallo in the fridge. Please grab it, the orange juice, and sour cream, too.”
Ransom did as she asked and set the items on the table of the four-seat dinette set that had been there his entire life. “Nah, I’m good, Ma. How are you?”
Claudia shot him a speculative gaze, and as always, Ransom was struck by his mother’s beauty. Of Mexican and German descent, Claudia Vargas-Lawson had long, dark brown hair and green eyes like her children. At forty-four, she kept her figure and face youthful, but her once flawless, deep olive skin hadn’t fared so well. Not because of the New Mexico sun or health reasons but because of her husband’s wandering eye.
Although she was married to Slade, and he was the President of The Immortals MC, she still had to fight for the respect that should’ve been rightly given to her. Growing up, Ransom and his brother had a front row seat to their parents’ destructive marriage and its sick, vicious patterns. Their father would fuck around on Claudia, and she would kick a bitch’s ass for going after her man. She’d been shot at, cut, and burned, yet, remained undefeated.
Her reward was the lavish attention her man bestowed upon her afterward. Slade would swear she was the only one for him while tending to her wounds and bathing her. Then she’d forgive him, and they’d fuck all night while their sons listened through paper-thin walls. Shit would be good until the next time he did it again, which as the years passed, occurred with increasing frequency.
“I’m good, mijo. I’d be a whole lot better if I knew where my boys went after last night’s barbecue,” she murmured. “You seen your brother today?”’
Last night, Lawson’s Automotive held its annual summer barbecue and carnival for the town. The event started at noon and ran for twelve hours. Claudia and some of the other Old Ladies rode together
. They decided to call it a night at nine. Slade and the MC oversaw everything until the carnies packed up and drove off.
Ransom glanced at the clock on the wall. It was barely nine. “I know that he and Shakes went out last night, but I just saw Shakes working on his bike. Could he be with Pitch?”
“Fucking Pitch! You better watch your brother with that snake!” Claudia banged her spatula against the counter in frustration. Harley’s friendship with the young man had always bothered her. He’d never said anything disrespectful to her or treated her in such a manner, but she could feel the waves of animosity oozing from him whenever he was around. It wasn’t necessarily directed at a particular person; Claudia simply sensed that he felt they were all beneath him. There was also the excessive fawning and hovering over Harley, but her son didn’t seem to mind. She blamed Slade for that. Her oldest was plagued by the insecurities instilled by his father.
“I’m on it, Ma,” Ransom promised, knowing she was right.
Since the security run, Harley tried keeping a low profile, but yesterday morning, he’d been halfway finished painting a light blue Honda Accord burgundy, only for Slade to inform him that it was supposed to be black. Slade had ripped him a new one in front of everyone. After correcting his mistake, Harley took off for parts unknown. Pitch was nowhere to be found either.
“See you later,” he said before slipping back out the door.
With a worried frown, Claudia watched him, noting the rigid lines in his posture. She closed her eyes and prayed silently for her children. Although identical, the boys were like night and day. Harley was impulsive, temperamental, needy, and had asshole tendencies, just like his father. Ransom was steady, level-headed, and rational, but like her, when provoked, had a vicious temper. Aware of his older brother’s weaknesses, Ransom tended to be overprotective of Harley. Hence his rush to see if he was with the well-known troublemaker.
The smell of bacon burning snapped Claudia out of her anxious thoughts.