His face was etched with concern. “This isn’t on you.”
She shook her head. “How do you figure?”
“It’s mine. I fucked up.”
Vera tilted her head at her brother. He carried the weight of the entire MC on his shoulders. “No, Dean.”
“Yes,” he told her with finality.
Something in his voice made her study him. What was he hiding?
And in that instant, he threw up a shield and his face went blank. There would be no getting whatever it was out of him.
She shifted gears in an attempt to pull him from whatever dark place he’d gone. “So why is the DEA back in our lives?”
“They’re investigating any possible business dealings between us and the Sentinels.”
“They’re not gonna find anything.” She pointed out the obvious.
He nodded. “Only problem is they’re gonna be poking and prodding around our territory again. And I can’t be sure they ain’t gonna find someone to sell out in the Sentinels ranks.”
She frowned. MCs like the Horsemen and Sentinels hated each other. Enough to kill. Enough to have spilled blood dozens of times since the MCs split into separate clubs some ten years ago. But there was an unspoken law between all MCs. Keep your mouth shut.
Everyone followed that single rule.
She shook her head. “No one’s gonna do that.”
Dean sat back in his chair. “They will if the DEA has a lock on bringing down someone in the Sentinels for murder one.”
She felt her eyes widen. “They got that?”
Her big brother shook his head, “That’s the word.”
Well, shit.
“What are you going to do?”
Her question was met with silence. The hair on her neck rose.
This life—this life she hadn’t chosen, wasn’t for the faint of heart. She had developed a thick skin from early on. But she’d also been shielded from the less than pleasant aspects of club business. Really, she wasn’t privy to anything her father or, now her brother, didn’t want to share. As the princess of the Horsemen, she reaped the benefits of the money they brought in and the protection they provided. There was no way out of the life. As much as she’d tried and rebelled as a teenager, this club was her family.
Still, she hated that the men she considered brothers did the things they did. Hurt and manipulated people. And she hated it even more that, like her, her brother had been born into a life he had no choices over.
He would do what needed to be done.
Vera nodded and sighed. “Is there a reason you wanted me to know?”
His deep black eyes stared back at her and she watched as they grew soft. “Just want you to watch your back. Keep your eyes open.” He tilted his chin toward the door. “Gonna have Mad on your six once he gets back from a run sometime tomorrow.”
She pressed her lips together in disapproval. “Is that necessary?”
“Yeah.” He paused and then added, “For now.”
She knew there would be no compromising with him, so she allowed him to do what he deemed necessary for her safety. “Okay.”
“Got work today?”
“Yeah, only one event though, and it’s a light lunch and finger foods.” As the owner of her own business, Vera was able to pick and choose how heavy a load she took on each day.
Dean looked back down at the papers before smiling up at her. “All right, be good.”
She lovingly rolled her eyes. “Always am.”
He chuckled and stood. Making his way around the desk, he pulled her in by her neck for a hug. His strong arms enveloped her and she hung onto his shirt. Since their dad had died it had been just them.
Vera left the room and gave the men huddled around the bar a smile and nod. “See you around, fellas.”
“Mini.”
Vera exited the bar and hopped into her car, a BMW X6, a mandatory gift from her brother. Meaning a gift she wasn’t allowed to refuse. The engine started with barely a sound and she pointed her baby in the direction of her industrial kitchen.
She traveled along the sloping hillsides and grimaced when she began to think of all the things she knew would come, being brought in for interviews where she’d be asked the same questions over and over again, those men and women saying awful things about her father. And her brother.
When she was younger and she’d been brought in for questioning for the first time, she’d been naïve enough to believe what the federal agents had told her. She’d allowed it to paint her opinions of her family.
Now, she knew better. The people she surrounded herself with were by no means angels. But they were good men where it counted—to their families, friends, and each other. They’d take the shirt off their backs to help anyone, be the first person to help in a crisis.
The world didn’t operate in black and white. The family she was part of was gray.
Signaling her blinker, she looked to the left and made her way into the intersection. As she did she saw a shadow in her periphery, and was hit from the right.
Pain exploded in her head as it bounced off the window and she felt her skin split open. The car spun but her eyes couldn’t track a damn thing.
Everything came to a stop abruptly. The edges of her vision dimmed and the last thing she saw was her door opening and a large, muscular arm reaching for her.
Then nothing.
Vera blinked her eyes. She blinked again. Dark. Black. Empty. She saw nothing. Moving her hand around, she felt carpet beneath her. What the fuck had happened? And then the throbbing ache in her head made itself known. She reached up to touch the area and her hand came away wet. Shit. She hissed as she found an open wound.
Using the wall directly behind her, she pushed her way into a standing position.
Suddenly a door directly across from her was thrown open and blinding light seared into her eyes.
Her blurry vision took in the behemoth of a man in front of her.
She’d daydreamed a lot over the last ten years about what he would grow to be. Her protector, her best friend. But never, in her best dreams, had she envisioned the man before her. He towered well over six feet and his body was stacked with muscles. His booted feet gave way to massive thighs that any girl would love to run her hands over. He wore jeans and a plain black t-shirt that was loose but did nothing to hide the fact that his chest and abs were most likely equally impressive, if not more. His biceps tested the strength of the cotton, and she watched as he crossed his tattooed arms, making them stand at attention. He wore a black leather cut over the shirt, and nothing else. The simplicity of it made it somehow incredibly masculine. Reluctantly her gaze moved to his face. Dark brown eyes stared down at her. He had several days’ stubble on his face that emphasized the hard angles of his jaw and cheekbones. He was gorgeous. He was a walking orgasm.
But he was also trouble. Because standing before her was Rider Hawkins. The President of Satan’s Sentinels. They were murderers. Every single one of them.
Fuck.
Chapter Two
Harper’s Ferry, West Virginia
Hawk
Hawk blinked down at the small, rigid form across the room.
“What am I looking at?” he asked the recruit behind him.
“Mini Mason.” Hawk could detect the pride in the kid’s voice. He narrowed his eyes at the woman now staring back at him defiantly.
“Mini Mason,” Hawk repeated as anger coursed through his body. He hadn’t seen “Mini” Mason in well over a decade. Not that he’d ever called her Mini. As a teenager, he’d preferred to taunt her with the title of Princess. Hawk stared down at the grown woman who’d replaced the awkward teenager he’d loved since the day he’d helped bandage up her knee.
“Yessir.”
Hawk turned slowly to the recruit and stared. “Are you fucking dumb?” His anger, dark and virtually uncontrollable, rose to the surface.
The recruit’s eyes shifted instantly from arrogance to fear. “What?”
Hawk
continued to glare. “What the fuck did you do?”
The color leached from the kid’s face as he shifted back and forth. “I saw…an opportunity.”
Hawk glanced back at the fucking princess of the Horsemen. “You kidnapped Mini Mason?” Hawk clarified, his voice dangerously low.
“Yessir.”
“How the fuck is this going to help things?”
“I figured we could…maybe strike a deal.”
Hawk turned fully to the recruit. “You fucking piece of shit. You just declared war on the Horsemen.”
The recruit blanched and began to shake his head. “I thought…the enemy of my enemy and all that.”
“She’s the little sister of the President, you dumbass. This is war.”
In his periphery Hawk saw his Vice President, Stryker, come into the basement. Going by his facial expression, he’d just learned of the epic fuck-up.
Hawk reached out and grabbed the recruit by the neck. “Get out of here. Don’t come back unless you’re called.”
The recruit nodded his head rapidly. And as Hawk let go, he changed his mind about the recruit leaving. Rearing back, he slammed his fist into the recruit’s face and dropped the little bitch like a stone.
Hawk and Stryker stared down at the still form for a moment before they both turned to look at their unwanted captive.
Stryker sidled up next to Hawk and crossed his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. “Well, shit just got real interesting.”
Hawk nodded grimly. “Fucking Mini Mason.”
“Vera,” a delicate voice stated. He could still hear the little girl he knew years ago behind the feminine huskiness she’d taken on. His cock came awake at the changes. Fucking twitched at her voice.
“Come again?”
“My name is Vera. Not Mini.”
Ballsy. She always had been.
Stryker grinned, obviously thinking the same thing.
Hawk entered the room and crouched down in front of the woman tied to the chair. The breath left him as he took in what was before him. Vera was beautiful. Raven black hair, pale unmarred skin. Bright hazel eyes overflowing with intelligence. Her lips were full, maybe even a bit too big for her face. Her neck was long and regal. Like a real princess. Slowly, Hawk let his eyes drift down. She wore a form-fitting white t-shirt, so it was easy to see her tits were on the small side. But then again, she was a tiny thing. He’d hazard a guess at five foot one or two, and not more than a buck. But still, her shape was that of a woman. Curvaceous and soft. Just the way he liked it. Her feet were clad in flip-flops and he saw that her toes were a bright red.
“Hey asshole, when you’re done checking me out, maybe you could untie me.”
Hawk grinned at her bravery but detected the waver in her voice. She was scared but hiding it well.
He let his eyes trail slowly back up her body. She might be used to talking to the Horsemen that way, but it wouldn’t fly with the Sentinels. No matter if they’d known each other a lifetime ago. She didn’t know him now. Who he’d become. The things he’d done.
When he met her gaze he could see the fear in her eyes. Good. She should be scared.
“Vera.”
“Rider.” She used his real name, not his road name.
He didn’t react. “Seems we’ve got ourselves a problem.”
Vera just stared back at him with those hazel eyes. Hawk shifted slightly as his dick pushed against his jeans.
“Not sure how we’re gonna fix this one.”
“Well, you could just let me go home.”
Hawk shook his head at her. “And have you run back to Mace and start a war? Can’t allow that.”
“I thought that douchebag already started one.”
He stared at her. After a few moments, she looked away. Yeah, she was used to speaking her mind. But she wasn’t princess here.
He stood and walked over to his best friend. Turning back, he faced their guest and watched her as he thought of possible ways to get out of this shit show unscathed. The Sentinels were more than equipped to wage a war with the Horsemen. Shit, it'd been a long time coming. But with the DEA breathing down their necks and a traitor in their midst, it wasn’t something he wanted to add to his to-do list.
“Whaddya think?”
Stryker was silent a moment before responding, “Keep her. Get one of the oldens to go to the Horsemen. Try to talk. Get them to agree to a drop zone. No battle.”
The oldens, as they were referred, were the men who had been part of the Horsemen before the MC had split. Although there was bad blood between them all, the oldens garnered respect from everyone.
Hawk nodded, it was as good an idea as any. He sighed heavily. “Strip the recruit.” He’d be a recruit no more.
The VP looked down at where the kid still lay unconscious. “On it.” Stryker moved out of his line of vision and Hawk heard the recruit being dragged.
Pushing himself off the doorframe, he walked back over to the woman who had consumed his dreams for years. He bent in front of her and began to untie the ropes. He liked a woman tied up, but only in his bed, so that he could do as he pleased getting them both off.
The ropes dropped to the floor and yet, she continued to sit. Her hazel eyes looked up at him warily.
He stood and motioned to the door. “Princess, your room awaits,” he taunted.
Vera looked out into the hall and back up to him. “You’re not letting me go?”
Hawk grinned down at her. “Not yet.”
Standing slowly, he watched her square her shoulders and brush past him. She stopped just outside the door and glanced at the blood that must’ve leaked from the recruit’s nose or mouth.
Silently, he led her down the hall and out to an intersection. To the right was the bar, to the left another series of rooms that were used when people needed a place to crash for one reason or another. Club bitches, naked and draped over passed out men, lay on the couches beyond.
Hawk opened one door after another until he found one that was relatively clean and didn’t appear to have been used recently.
The room was windowless and outfitted with the bare necessities. A bed, a shitty TV, and a private bathroom.
Vera’s eyes widened as she took in the bedroom. He watched her pulse pick up in her delicate neck and her chest began to move rapidly. His eyes were drawn again to her breasts. Small, but perky. They swayed as she breathed.
“No one will bother you here.” He nodded to the room. “I’ll get one of the bitches to bring you girly shit.”
Placing a hand at the small of her back he ignored the vibration that went through him at feeling her warmth. It made him want to feel other warm areas. Sink deep into her heat. Hold her legs open wide and fuck the attitude right out of her.
Pushing her none too lightly into the room, he didn’t wait for a response. He closed the door on her shocked face, took out his keys, locked her in tight, and made his way to the bar.
He needed a fucking drink.
When he entered the open area he saw that his Sergeant of Arms and Road Leader were seated, each with a beer, turned toward where he appeared.
They looked grim.
Yeah, he was sure that was how he looked too.
“Saw Stryker,” his Sergeant of Arms, Tate, greeted.
“Dragging the fucking recruit by his boots,” Slade, his Road Leader added.
Hawk moved around to the back of the bar and grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass. Silently, he took two shots before responding to his men.
“We gonna get out of this without people dying?” Slade asked.
“Yeah, think so.”
Tate nodded. “Whaddya need from us?”
Hawk motioned with his head down the hall. “Got ourselves a guest of honor. Get one of your bitches to pick up supplies a chick would need.”
Tate’s brown eyes flared. “You want us to buy her shit.”
“I want,” he ground out, “when she is returned home, to not have dick to say ab
out bad treatment while she was here.”
He watched understanding grow in Tate’s eyes. “On it.”
Hawk looked over at Slade. “Get some food or some shit for her to eat. He looked at the clock on the wall. It was getting late. Close to midnight. He wasn’t sure how much time they had until a search party was called on the Princess of the Horsemen. He needed to get Stryker to work fast.
“Get Stryker in here on your way out.”
The men recognized his words as the dismissal they were. They nodded, stood, and made their way out of the bar.
Hawk looked down. He did not need this shit.
At all.
Vera
Vera surveyed her surroundings. Horrendous wood paneling no doubt from the 1980s, a carpet that had seen better days, and a TV that was on its last leg. She rubbed her head. She’d successfully ignored the throbbing headache while in the presence of Rider Hawkins, but now it was hard to push aside. She’d hit her head really hard.
Turning in a circle, she found no way out. Shit. She walked over to the bathroom and flipped the switch. The light was dim and the room was in need of a good scrubbing, but at least she saw no cockroaches or mice scurrying about.
Trudging over to the bed, Vera sat on the edge and allowed her shoulders to slump. A single tear escaped and she quickly brushed it away. She had to keep her wits about her. Her brother would be looking for her by tomorrow morning. He texted her every day to check in, and when she didn’t reply, he would go to her house.
He was going to declare war when he found out she was with the people who had killed Gunner.
That she was with Rider.
She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to feel around the man who’d once been part of her family. She hadn’t expected to feel a warmth in her chest…or in places much lower. Hatred was supposed to overrule it all. She didn’t know if she could hate him. But she wanted to. Desperately.
And oddly, knowing she was with Rider took away any real fear she had. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her. It didn’t matter how long it had been. He would keep her safe.
Vera rubbed her head.
Craving Forbidden (Craving Series Book 8) Page 4