Abel (Savage Kings MC - South Carolina Book Series 7)

by Lane Hart

  “Fine. Give me until noon to sober up, and then we’ll ride out.”

  “Nah, man. I’m riding alone on this one.”

  “What? Why?” I ask.

  “I just need to do this on my own, okay? I’ll probably be back by Monday night.”

  The asshole is definitely hiding something.

  “So you’re going all the way up to the Virginia coast for a booty call? That’s a little nuts, don’t you think?”

  “You can think what you want. I don’t give a shit about who you hook up with, so just give me a fucking break on this one, okay?”

  Closing my eyes, I lean my head against the base of the statue. “Fine. Go! Bang her brains out if that’s what you want.”

  Suddenly I’m yanked up to my feet, and then strong hands are slapping at my upper thighs before they abruptly pull away. “Jesus Christ! Give a guy a warning before you feel him up, would you?”

  “I can’t make you leave, but I am taking your motorcycle key with me. I’ll leave it on the kitchen counter for you in the morning before I leave.”

  Taking my hand, he turns it palm up and places the key ring in the palm. “There’s the key to the house. Put it in your pocket before you lose it out here.”

  He was looking for my keys! Damn, should’ve known he wasn’t searching for my cock.

  That reminds me… “I’ve got to meet someone in the parking lot.”

  “Sure, you do,” Hugo says.

  “I do! The pretty little bartender. She’s taking me to her place.”

  “Well, have fun,” he responds with another sigh. “Call me if you need a ride later.”

  “Yeah. Okay,” I say, and then he disappears through the hedges. I follow him through, pinballing my way against the thick walls until I come out at the concrete parking lot that connects to the hotel. It’s lit up by the tall, scarce lights, and most of the vehicles are closer to the hotel entrance than the gardens.

  And instead of a sexy woman waiting for me, there’s a large, muscular man leaning against a red sports car in a goddamn purple suit.

  Fuck.

  Chapter Eight

  Cory

  I waited for twenty minutes after my sister and her new husband left, along with almost everyone else. Finally, after I was about to say fuck it and go up to my hotel room, one of Nolan’s biker buddies comes strolling out of the eight-foot-tall hedges, looking annoyed. He’s the bearded one Abel wants. Hugo, I think his name is. He barely gave me a glance before he climbed on his Harley and floored it out of the parking lot.

  Another two or three minutes later and Abel stumbles out of the same hedges.

  Huh.

  Were they…nah. The Hugo guy is completely straight. If he wasn’t, he would’ve caved by now to what his friend wants. The angry biker could tempt even the straightest of men.

  Abel straightens and glances around with his hand shielding his eyes like the parking lot lights are too bright for him. Then, when he sees me, his shoulders slump like he just remembered telling me to meet him here for an ass kicking.

  “Was starting to think you had pussied out,” I yell to him across the empty lot. He heads for me, walking in the zigzag pattern of a truly wasted man. “You’re too fucked-up. It wouldn’t be a fair fight. We’ll reschedule,” I assure him. But he just keeps coming at me like a determined zombie, his shoulders hunched, legs wobbling like Jell-O.

  The top of his lowered head rams into me first, and fuck it hurts when his skull slams into the center of my breastbone! Still, I don’t stagger. I just grab his upper arms and shove him backward. His arms pinwheel as he tries to catch his balance, going back ten feet before he slams into the hood of a truck that keeps him upright.

  “Come on. Let’s get you to bed,” I tell him. “We’ll finish this tomorrow.”

  Once he’s in a bedroom with me, though, I bet there will be other things on his mind than fighting…

  “Fuck you!” he shouts.

  Like that, for instance.

  He runs at me again, and this time he lifts his fist, and it skims my chin but doesn’t hurt me. Again, I shove him away. Over and over again, he comes at me in the same, slow, off-balanced way. Gradually, though, his strength seems to return. Maybe he started sweating out the alcohol with all of his exertion. He’s gasping for air while I’ve barely moved an inch. Every time he comes at me, I get to grab onto him for a few seconds, feeling the hard muscles under his shoulders or his thick biceps flexing before I let him go.

  But when he actually hits my jaw hard enough for it to go numb, I lock my arms around his so he can’t retreat until I let him.

  There’s only about two inches of space separating the front of our bodies from being flush against each other. But I’m not closing them. He’ll have to do that when he’s ready. Leaning down to his ear since he’s a few inches shorter than I am, my lips are a whisper away when I say, “I could do this all night, gummy bear, but it’s even more fun to play this game naked.”

  That sets him off like I assumed it would. I release his arms, and fists come at my gut faster than I can block them before something slams into the back of my head.

  It’s not Abel’s fist since his arms aren’t that damn long.

  “What the hell?” I say as I yank my neck around just as a dark object flies in front of my face and lands smack dab on the front of Abel’s, smashing his nose. He howls in pain since that’s the first hit he’s taken because I haven’t thrown any punches at the crazy drunk fool.

  The weapon drops to the pavement with a loud thump between us. When Abel steps back to slap his palms over his bleeding nose, I bend down and pick the item up to examine it.

  “A boot?”

  Abel’s eyes widen at someone approaching us. “You hit me in the nose with a fucking boot?” His words are muffled since they’re coming from behind his cupped hands.

  I finally spin around and see the assailant. It’s a small brunette in a white button-down and black jeans. The bartender?

  “This ain’t the first fight I’ve broken up,” she says as she comes closer in her black socks to pick up the boot that beamed me in the back of the head. She shoves her foot down in it, then yanks the other from my hand to put it on. “I’m not stupid enough to try and jump in the middle of another one.”

  While her method may be unusual, it was effective.

  Abel’s now kneeling on the ground with his face covered, and if not for the blood, it would be hot as hell to see the tough guy in the open-wide-and-suck-me-good position.

  “I didn’t mean to bust your nose.” The girl goes to her knees in front of Abel. “Sorry. I don’t think there are any tissues in the truck either.” She looks over her shoulder at me. “Do you have any?”

  As a matter of a fact, I carry cleanup wipes in my glove compartment for quickies on the road. But instead of mentioning those, I say, “I’ve got a room at the hotel. Help me get him up there?”

  “No!” Abel shouts.

  “Are you sure?” the woman gets to her feet and asks me, ignoring him. She’s got a pretty face and beautiful, long, curly brown hair, but not many curves. She’s a little too lean, like the kind of scrawny you get from not having enough food. Still, there’s something about her, an edginess and pierced holes that make me think she has a wild side in bed that would more than make up for the lack of bouncy tits and ass.

  While I’m sizing her up, she seems to be doing the same to me. Her gorgeous, blacked-lined cerulean eyes spend a little extra time taking in the bright color of my hair, then admiring the way my suit stretches over my wide shoulders. I would be insulted if she hadn’t stared at the area below the belt at least for a few seconds since I’m long enough when soft to always have a nice bulge, especially in snug suit pants.

  “Two queen beds. Plenty of room,” I tell her. Rita offered to let me stay with her and Nolan, but I wasn’t stupid enough to take her up on that, especially not on her wedding night. “I’m Cory Collins,” I say, holding out my palm toward her. She takes
it, giving my fingers a firm squeeze instead of acting all delicate like most shy southern women. Yep, this girl loves cock and knows exactly how to grab one. That’s at least two things we have in common.

  Her eyes brighten when she drops my hand. “Collins? Are you by chance related to the bride?”

  “Ah, yeah. She’s my sister.”

  “That’s great. It looked like a beautiful wedding.”

  “Yeah, it was, wasn’t it?” I reply. “So, what’s your name?”

  “Selina,” she answers with a smile.

  “Nice to meet you, Selina.”

  Abel grumbles a curse, drawing our attention to him as he shimmies out of his leather cut and then pulls off the T-shirt he was wearing underneath while still kneeling.

  While he undressed to hold the material up to his bleeding face, that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the view of his ripped upper body. I already knew from getting my hands on him that he was hard as a rock all through his chest and arms, but the six-pack abs are a nice fucking surprise.

  “Wow,” Selina whispers, and I realize she’s also admiring the fallen biker. Looks like we have the same good taste in men too.

  And god, I’ve always wanted to have a beautiful woman and a sexy-ass man at the exact same time. Selina may be exactly what it takes to get Abel to loosen up.

  “Want to help me get him up to my room?” I ask her.

  “Absolutely. Thanks, Cory,” she agrees, going over to grab one of his arms. I would try and take the other, but he would just shove me off.

  “Come on, Abel. You’re too bloody and drunk to get in my truck,” she tells him when he doesn’t budge.

  “We’ll get another room. One for just you and me, baby girl,” he promises her as he gets to his feet, his words muffled by his T-shirt as he glares at me.

  “Don’t be silly! Cory has plenty of room. There’s no point wasting money just because you two have some beef to work out. What were you fighting about anyway?” she asks, looking between us.

  I stare at Abel with an arched eyebrow, one that says, come up to my room or I’ll tell her all your secrets.

  “Nothing,” he eventually huffs. “He fucked over my friend years ago. I guess…I guess we’re good now.”

  “Great! See, we’re already making progress!” Selina replies excitedly.

  And then, we all head for the hotel.

  Here’s hoping for a night so fucking hot the three of us will never forget it.

  Chapter Nine

  Selina

  Going up to a hotel room with two big, strange men is probably not the smartest thing I’ve ever done.

  But there’s something about Cory with his baby blue eyes and constant grin that makes him look playful and trustworthy. Abel’s dark green ones seem to hold more secrets, but they’re also full of an aching longing and a soft vulnerability that contradicts his tough-guy appearance and attitude.

  I think I’m safe sharing a room with both of them. If it turns out I’m wrong, I’ll just take off my boots and beat them with them again.

  “So, do you live around here?” I ask Cory as I sit on one bed, and he sits on the opposite while Abel is in the bathroom cleaning up.

  “Ah, no. Right now, I’m going to college over at Walraven University.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “It’s a private school in Smithfield, near Savannah, Georgia. I live right off campus with a roommate. When I graduate…shit, I guess I don’t really have a home. My sister just moved out of the apartment we lived in over in Cape Cartwright when I was in high school. Now she lives with her new husband here, so that ain’t going to happen…”

  “I’m sorry. I know how it feels to not have anywhere to go home to.”

  “Oh yeah?” he asks.

  “Yeah,” I reply. “I recently…left my boyfriend.” I lie because I don’t want him asking questions about Dubois’s death. Changing the subject, I ask, “So how did your sister and Nolan meet?”

  “Ah, they dated a long time ago, then were separated for a while before reuniting recently when Rita had a big fucking problem.”

  “Oh? What was the big problem?”

  “A huge, psycho dude named Leroy,” he answers with a grin. “He’s backed off now, as far as I know, thanks to Nolan and the Savage Kings.”

  I barely hold back from exclaiming I fucking knew it!

  “What did the Kings do?” I ask.

  “Just had her back or whatever,” Cory responds. He glances over to the closed bathroom door, where water in the sink is still running. “The asshole apparently wouldn’t take no for an answer, so the MC stepped up to back him down. He’s probably cold and six feet under now. Nobody wants to mess with the Kings.”

  “You think they killed the guy?” I whisper quietly.

  “What other way is there to make sure he doesn’t come after my sister? Can’t say I blame them…”

  If that’s true, then I’m glad Leroy is dead and that the Savage Kings took care of him. But did the Kings kill the other Rebel Henchmen? That’s what I want to know.

  I tilt my head toward the bathroom. “Do you think he’s dangerous?”

  “Nah,” Cory says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “They may look tough and carry guns or whatever, but I know enough about those guys to be certain they would never hurt anyone that didn’t deserve it. Did you see all the women at the wedding? The city’s mayor is dating a Savage King, and she’s as classy as they come. Those girls wouldn’t stay with the Kings if they weren’t good guys, right? Besides, my sister is smart. She wouldn’t be with someone who could kill indiscriminately.”

  “I guess you’re right,” I say, wondering if maybe this is a dead end if Leroy killed the Rebel Henchmen and the Savage Kings killed Leroy. If Abel could confirm that then I think I would finally have the closure I need to let Dubois go.

  And there’s likely only one way to get close enough to a member of an MC to get him to talk about club business, and that’s by getting in his bed and figuring out a way to not get immediately kicked out of it the very next day. A president like Dubois wouldn’t talk even then, as I know from experience. The only conversations we had were about what was for dinner and what position he wanted me in to fuck me. But maybe if Abel is careless enough to get sloppy drunk once, it’ll happen again, and then I’ll get my questions answered. Patched members are a tough bunch to crack, that’s for sure. I’ll do whatever it takes to make it happen.

  Until then, well, I might as well have some fun. Dubois isn’t coming back. The two of us lived together for months. He shared his home with me. And while I was nothing more to him than a warm body most of the time, I had feelings for him. I maybe would’ve even loved him if we had more time together. Dubois was always there for me and would’ve protected me, which is more than anyone else has ever given me.

  But, if the roles were reversed and I were gone, well, he would’ve been screwing another woman before I was even in the ground to try and move on.

  That’s what I should do too.

  Which is why I say to Cory, “If you go to college in Georgia, then I guess you’re just passing through town for the weekend?”

  “Pretty much,” he agrees with a grin that I return.

  “Then we should make the most out of it, shouldn’t we?”

  It’s too bad that Cory doesn’t know more about what happened with the Rebel Henchmen. Still, the ginger is hot and has offered me a free bed for the night. It wouldn’t be a chore to have to share it with him. Besides, I’ve hated spending the last few nights alone, sleeping in my truck, missing Dubois.

  The bathroom door finally opens. Abel comes staggering out in nothing but his cut, jeans, and boots, his undershirt having been tossed in the trash after it was stained. His green eyes are slits, barely open as he weaves his way toward the bed I’m sitting on and falls face-first down on it faster than you can yell, “Timber!”

  Just like that, he’s down for the count.

  “The biker can’t hold his liqu
or,” Cory jokes.

  “You wouldn’t be able to either if you drank as much as he was chugging,” I comment quietly. I reach over and shake Abel’s lower leg, but he doesn’t budge. Yep, he’s out for the night. Standing up, I go to the foot of the bed to untie each of his boots and then pull them off to help him get a little more comfortable. Then, I find an extra blanket in the closet to cover him up.

  “You just met him, right?” Cory asks when I’m finished tucking in the badass biker and stand back to admire my handwork.

  “Yeah, why?” I ask.

  “Then why bother?” he asks, gesturing to the blanket.

  “Because I would want someone to be kind to me if I were passed out drunk.”

  “That’s decent of you. I would’ve left him where he fell and maybe drew a dick on the side of his face in permanent marker.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s no way to win him over.”

  Cory’s brow lifts in surprise.

  That’s right. I’m not blind. At first, I was certain that it was one-sided. But Abel seemed hell-bent on going after Cory like there was more to it than just anger fueling him…

  “The sexual tension between you two when you were fighting was so damn thick, I couldn’t breathe,” I explain. “But he’s going to be a challenge. Tough bikers like Abel wouldn’t be caught dead screwing around with other men. Some clubs would even take his cut for it.”

  “No shit,” Cory replies with a chuckle. “But the bigger they are, the harder they fall.”

  “You like a challenge,” I remark.

  “Who doesn’t?” He smirks. “Breaking down closet doors is practically my job.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. It’s how I paid for this suit and my car.” He stands up, showing off all six foot plus several inches of his muscular body as he removes the suit jacket, revealing a snug blue button-down a few shades darker underneath.

  “You make those self-proclaimed straight men pay you to live out their secret desires?” I ask.