Wheels of Fire (Hollywood Demons Book 3)

by Autumn Jones Lake

  “You already do.”

  “You’ll tell me if I don’t.” It’s a statement, not a question.

  “Will you tell me if I don’t make you happy?”

  He kisses my forehead. “Not possible. Just breathing the same air as you makes me happy.”

  “Chaser, is everything okay? Did something happen because of what I said to my father?”

  He steps back, brow furrowed as he considers my question. “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Stump said he was happy for us.” I bite my lip and drop my gaze. “Did he change his mind?” Not that I think it matters to Chaser, but at least one of our fathers should approve of our marriage.

  A fist thumps against our door before Chaser has a chance to answer the question.

  “Party’s starting!” someone shouts.

  “That’s our cue to get out there,” I whisper.

  Maybe it’s better if he doesn’t answer my question.

  Chaser brushes his knuckles under my chin. “Are you ready, future Mrs. Adams?”

  I grin at him. “Absolutely, future Mr. Dove.”

  He pulls me in, hugging me tight. “Never happening, but I love you.”

  “Mr. DeLova?” I raise a teasing eyebrow.

  “Fuck no. I’d take Dove before DeLova.”

  “Good to know. Good to know.”

  Shaking his head, he takes my hand and leads me into the main room of the clubhouse.

  “Here’s the happy couple!” Tally yells.

  We stop under the archway leading into the bar area while everyone shouts congratulations and cheers for us. It’s rowdy and unlike anything I’ve ever been a part of but I savor every second of pure, honest emotion.

  I hold up my left hand and flash my ring at the room. “We’re engaged!”

  More cheers and a few crude words are thrown at us. Some “ball and chain” jokes and “better run while you can” comments, which Chaser ignores.

  Stump embraces both of us and kisses my forehead. “Welcome to the family, princess,” he whispers before turning around and pushing me forward. “My future daughter-in-law. Couldn’t ask for a better woman for my son.”

  A beat of silence passes before everyone shouts another round of congratulations. My guess is Stump doesn’t often demonstrate affection.

  “Thank you, Mr. Adams—”

  “Dad.”

  “Thank you…Dad.” My eyes water and I tell myself it’s only because of the heavy cloud of smoke hanging in the air. “Thank you for always making me feel like I belong here.”

  He stares at me and swallows hard before looking away. “You’re family, Mallory. You’ll always belong here.”

  Chaser’s staring daggers at his father and brushes him off when he tries to hug him.

  Well, I guess that answers my earlier question.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chaser

  The bikers who call this clubhouse home will use any excuse to party. But engagements don’t happen often, so they’re extra rambunctious tonight. Doe and a few other old ladies pull Mallory away to check out her ring and discuss wedding stuff. I hate to break it to Doe but I’m warming up to Mallory’s “let’s elope” idea every time I look at my father.

  I plant my moody ass at the end of the bar where I have a good view of Mallory and the girls. Brothers stop by to shake my hand, congratulate me, and offer their advice—none as out of line as my father’s, thank fuck.

  I signal for the prospect behind the bar to hand me another Corona.

  “You think that’s a good idea?” My father’s rumbling question spikes my anger right back to the red zone.

  I take a long, slow guzzle before answering his question. “Come to give me more shitty guidance?”

  “After your…issue.” He nods to the beer bottle I have my fist wrapped around.

  “My issue wasn’t alcohol. This is the first beer I’ve touched in months.” I cock my head. “What the fuck happened to you all of a sudden—get your grubby mitts on a copy of Parenting magazine and decide to make up for lost time?”

  Instead of laughing, he hoists his big ass up on the stool next to me and orders his own beer. “I’m sorry, okay? I should’ve kept my mouth shut.”

  I peer into my bottle. Maybe the little shit behind the bar laced it with LSD. That would sure explain this hallucination. Stump Adams apologizes for nothing to anyone. Ever.

  “Come again?” I cup my hand around my ear and lean closer to him.

  “You heard me.” He slaps me on the back with enough force to push me forward. “I ain’t repeatin’ myself.”

  I tug at my ear. “I think I heard sorry come out of your mouth? But that can’t be right.”

  He mutters a few curses under his breath. “Mallory’s a good girl. And I shouldn’t have brought up your mother.”

  “Thank you.” My gaze lands on Mallory again. This time she catches me staring and waves. “She’s not good. She’s the best. Don’t forget it again, old man.”

  “Fine. Fine. Fuck. I wish I’d never opened my mouth.”

  I tap my bottle against his. “That makes two of us.”

  “Maybe I was worried some of my shittiness rubbed off on you. That you’ll fuck things up because you need the thrill of something different once in a while.”

  I groan and thump my forehead against the sticky wood bar. “Really?”

  “Like father, like son and all that. But you’re different from me.”

  “You don’t say,” I mumble.

  “In a good way.”

  I pick my head up and stare at him. “You ever think that growing up watching you be such an asshole helped me decide what kind of man I wanted to be? You taught me a lot of good things—I could always count on you to show up for me. At school, whatever I needed. Gave me your undivided attention too, even though you had a lot on your shoulders. Taught me the value of hard work. And to stand up for myself and for others. To be level-headed under pressure. When I’m ready to snap sometimes, I ask myself—would Dad handle it this way?”

  He swallows hard and nods. “I tried.”

  “Yeah, I get that it wasn’t easy for you. I know I was a little fucker sometimes—”

  “Sometimes?”

  “But, fuck I hated what you did to Mom. Hated watching her try so fucking hard to please you all the time and you not giving a shit.”

  “Is that what you saw?”

  “Yeah, that’s what I saw.” I rub my hands over my face considering how to put these feelings into words. “It was hard to reconcile the two. You were a good dad. Tough on me, for sure.”

  “Not tough enough,” he mutters.

  “You were lousy to my mother, though. I couldn’t comprehend why you’d treat someone you supposedly loved the way you treated her.”

  “I did love her.”

  I wave my hand toward the rest of the clubhouse. “I get that fucking without remorse is an admirable quality in a biker, but the damage caused isn’t worth living up to the stereotype.”

  He seems to take all of that in and finally says, “I’m sorry.”

  “Two in one day. I should get engaged more often.”

  “Enjoy getting all this off your chest, Russell,” he warns. “Tonight’s your free pass.”

  “Gee, what’ll you get me for our wedding?”

  “A swift kick in your ass if you don’t stop mouthing off.”

  I take another swallow of beer and consider my words. “I knew if I ever found the right girl, I’d do the opposite of whatever the fuck you did with women.”

  He snorts. “That must be uncomfortable.”

  “You know what I mean,” I growl, not in the mood for his attempt at humor. “While I was on tour, I missed the fuck out of Mallory. She wasn’t out of sight, out of mind for me.”

  “Then you’re a rare breed, son.”

  “Yeah, probably.”

  “Am I allowed to interrupt?” Mallory’s soft voice eases my lingering irritation.

  “Always.” I cu
rl my arm around her waist, and drag her between my knees, pressing her back to my chest. “You having fun?” I ask against her ear.

  “I am.” She reaches out to my dad. “Are you sure you’re still happy about this?” She wiggles her fingers at him, showing off her ring.

  “My father isn’t giving you trouble, is he?” There’s a catch in her voice. Maybe she sensed the hornet’s nest Dad and I have been kicking around over here in our corner of the clubhouse. “I may have gotten carried away when I spoke to him.”

  “You were fantastic.” I kiss her cheek again. “He needed to hear what you said.”

  “Yeah, princess,” Dad answers slowly. “I’m happy. There’s no trouble your father can throw at me, I can’t handle.”

  “I know. Thank you,” she says.

  He lifts his gaze to me. “Besides, telling off fathers seems to be the theme of the day.”

  “Uh-oh.” Mallory peers up at me. “What did you do?” she says in a teasing voice.

  “You were brave today,” I whisper against her ear. Louder, I add, “Figured it was time to get some things off my chest too. That’s all.”

  “Enough of the heavy conversation.” My father slaps his palm on the bar top. “My son already psycho-babbled me enough for ten years. Enjoy your party.” He waves us off and turns around, smacking one of the club girls on the ass to get her attention.

  Not in the mood to see that tonight, I turn away from them, placing Mallory between me and the bar. The dark corner and angle of my body provides enough cover that I run my hands down her sides, grazing my fingertips along the edge of her dress.

  She leans back, resting her head on my chest and stares up at me.

  The prospect behind the bar approaches, then steps away. Poor kid dances back and forth, trying to figure out if he should give us privacy but not wanting to neglect our drink needs. I finally end his misery by calling him over.

  “Another one?” He swipes my empty bottle and tosses it in the can.

  “What cocktails can you make?”

  He grins. “Fuzzy Navel, Between the Sheets, Alabama Slammer…all the hard, hyper-sweet ones. Hardly ever get to serve anything except beer, though.” He throws a wink at one of the club girls who walks up. “Except for the ladies.”

  “Easy there, prospect,” I warn. “You’re on duty tonight.”

  I wait for the girl to grab what she came for before motioning the prospect our way again.

  “What interests you, little dove?” I ask against Mallory’s ear.

  “Me? I’m not old enough to drink.”

  “Doesn’t really matter here.”

  “Oh.” Her eyes light up as she studies the shelves of colorful bottles behind the bar. “I don’t know. Whenever my father allowed me a sip of his drinks, they always tasted like poison.”

  “Something sweet then.”

  She finally decides on a Fuzzy Navel—peach schnapps, orange juice, and vodka.

  “Easy on the vodka,” I remind the kid.

  “You got it.”

  Mallory leans over the bar to watch him mix the drink, sparking a number of dirty ideas for later tonight. I run my hand over the smooth leather clinging to the curve of her ass, up her spine, stopping between her shoulder blades

  She turns, her hair tickling over the back of my hand. “What are you doing?”

  “Appreciating my beautiful woman.”

  “Here ya go.” The prospect slides a tall glass with the orange concoction Mallory’s way. He even added an orange slice. Who knew fruit could be found in the clubhouse?

  She takes the daintiest sip. “I don’t taste any alcohol.”

  “It’ll sneak up on ya. Go easy.”

  Mallory

  Chaser’s right. The drink sneaks up on me, a pleasant tingling sensation leaves me warm all over. “What else can I try?”

  The bartender takes my glass but looks to Chaser for confirmation before offering me another drink.

  “Chaser?” A soft voice to our right interrupts.

  I turn and study the pretty brunette, inwardly I groan, assuming she’s an ex of some sort.

  “Mallory, right?” she holds out her hand to me. “I’m Alicia. I’m here with Tally.”

  “Oh! I’ve heard so much about you.”

  Pink spreads across her cheeks and she ducks her head. “I’m afraid to ask.”

  “Did we go to high school together?” Chaser asks.

  “I graduated a year behind you guys.” She blushes again. “Tally took me to Senior Prom. I think you were playing a club that night.”

  Chaser nods slowly and scans the room. “Good to see you.”

  “Well, I wanted to say congratulations.” She nervously wiggles her fingers at us in a half-hearted wave.

  “So, you’re from around here?” I ask.

  “No. Well, yes.” She squeezes her eyes shut for a second. “I grew up here. My parents still live nearby. I’m home on break. Tally and I ran into each other and he invited me…here. Tonight.”

  “That’s great.” My overly enthusiastic shout has Chaser peering at me sideways. Maybe I should hold off on another cocktail.

  “Congratulations, Chaser.” She reaches out, brushing her fingers over his arm. “On the band, I mean. It’s so cool.”

  Underneath me, I feel him shift. Knowing how much Chaser likes to keep his music life and biker life separate, I try to think of another topic.

  “So, you knew both of them in high school? Did you know Alvin too?” I ask.

  She wrinkles her nose for a second. “Oh, Chipmunk! Yes. He was always a little more aloof, though.”

  Chaser snorts

  Thankfully, Tally rescues us from the awkwardness of this encounter.

  “There you are.” He slips and arm around her waist.

  “Good timing, Tally. I was just about to start asking her for dirt about you and Chaser in high school,” I tease.

  “No dirt.” He peers up at the ceiling for a second and the corner of his mouth quirks. “Okay, maybe a little dirt.”

  Clearly enamored of Tally, Alicia giggles like a schoolgirl. He tips his beer bottle in my direction. “Mallory’s on that show, Shallow End, have you ever seen it?”

  Alicia’s pretty blue eyes widen and she presses her fingers against her mouth. “I haven’t, no. I don’t get to watch a lot of television,” she says in the most apologetic way. As if she’s worried I’ll be offended. Honestly, I’m relieved.

  “No big deal,” I assure her. “It’s a small part, but a lot of fun.” My standard answer when anyone asks me about Shallow End.

  “That’s so cool. I’ll definitely have to watch it while I’m home.”

  By the way Tally keeps looking at her, TV seems to be low on activities he wants to do while she’s visiting.

  Eventually, they wander over to the pool table, leaving Chaser and I alone at this end of the bar.

  “I’m so happy they’re together,” I squeal, a little louder than I meant to.

  “Yeah, why’s that?” Chaser brushes a lock of hair off my cheek.

  I shrug. “Tally mentioned her last time we were home. That’s all.”

  His eye-roll and the twitch at the corner of his mouth say he’s less than impressed.

  “Why don’t you like her?” An awful thought crosses my mind and I blurt it out before thinking it through. “Did you date her?”

  He huffs out a laugh. “She’s not my type.”

  “Oh?” I arch a brow. “And what’s your type?”

  “You.” He clamps his hands over my hips for emphasis.

  “Good answer.”

  “The only answer,” he counters. “Anyway, I couldn’t place her until you asked about Chipmunk. He had a thing for her in high school too.”

  “Ah, so your band mate and one of your brothers liked the same girl. That’s awkward.”

  “I’m pretty sure Chipmunk’s gotten over it.”

  “Probably.” I turn back to the bar.

  Chaser’s hands slide up my
legs and under my dress, dragging it up a few precious centimeters. “What are you doing?” I ask over my shoulder.

  “Thinking how I could easily push this up over your hips.” Under my dress, he barely has room to move his big hand, but somehow he slips around my thigh and strokes down my center with his finger. “Rip these panties out of my way.” His hot breath puffs over my shoulder and he nips my earlobe. “And make you come right here.”

  I squirm and inch my feet apart.

  “You like the sound of that, don’t you?”

  Heat stings my cheeks and I take a quick, cautious glance around the room. “Not with so many people here.” Not that it matters, half the room is engaged in much more risqué activities.

  The heat of his hand disappears, and he tugs my dress into place.

  “What are you doing?”

  “You’re right.” He nods to the bar. “Do you want anything else to drink?”

  I turn, leaning my elbows against the bar, so I’m facing him and arch my back. A flush of feminine pride sweeps over me as his hungry gaze travels over my body. I reach out and place a finger under his chin, redirecting his eyes to my face. “Chaser, you don’t have to get me tipsy to have your way with me. I’m a sure thing.”

  “I don’t want you tipsy.” He drops his gaze again. “I need you fully engaged for what I plan to do to you.”

  A little tipsy, I titter at the word engaged and flash my ring at him.

  A smile plays over his lips. “Maybe you have had enough.”

  The front door opens with a bang and bikers I don’t recognize enter the clubhouse.

  Chaser’s hold on me changes from playful to downright possessive.

  One biker I finally recognize. Bishop trudges over to us. The few times I’ve met him, he’s been nice to me. Still, he’s a scary guy when he’s focused and coming right at you.

  “Hey, Bishop.” Chaser holds out his hand and the two men shake. “Thanks for coming tonight.”

  The older biker sweeps his gaze over us and a hint of a smile curves his lips. “I hear we’re celebrating big news tonight.”

  “We are.” I pat Chaser’s arms that are wrapped around me so tight, I can barely breathe. “It’s nice to see you again, Bishop.”

  He glances over his shoulder. “You two have a minute?”