by Lynn, Davida
Copyright © 2015 by Davida Lynn. All rights reserved.
Cover design by Mayhem Cover Creations
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Also By Davida Lynn:
The Rising Sons Universe:
The Rising Sons Motorcycle Club
Rising Sons - The Virtues Series:
Book One: Hope
Book Two: Faith
Book Three: Charity
Rising Sons - The Davis Chapter
Book Two - Temperance
Book Three - Reverence
Detroit Heat:
Book One: Kade’s Rescue
Book Two: Rico’s Recovery
Book Three: Jonah’s Rescue
Standalone Work:
Brutal
Visions of Tomorrow
Acknowledgements
A big shout out to my writing partner Rayna Bishop, my faithful companion in telling stories. She keeps me honest and true.
For all of the lovely ladies that read this early and gave me wonderful feedback. Kathy, Donna, Sonya, and Angela.
It was a hard climb up from the darkness; harder than usual. Usual? Do I do this alot? When I opened my eyes, the black was shattered by the pure violence of straight sunlight. Pain became my world. I groaned and turned away. I shut my eyes tight and slid my hand up to my head. The headache gripped me hard, but it wasn’t at my temples like a hangover. The searing pain was at the back of my head. What was it this time? This time? Has this happened before?
Even with my eyes closed, my mind couldn’t focus. Question after question ran tumbled my head, but no answers came. I couldn’t remember the previous night…I couldn’t remember anything.
Then the panic set it. The answers weren’t coming. It felt like floating in the ocean and dying for a foothold. My mind tread water as I tried to figure something out. As my heart pounded in my chest, I forced my eyes open. Shielding them from the sun, I saw an unfamiliar bed. Calling this a bed might be a little bit of a stretch. I found myself in an unfamiliar mattress on the floor. To my left the walls were painted dark, posters hung with crooked care. To my right was a man…A naked man…
I wanted to scream. My mind wanted answers. I wanted to run. Even with fear wrapping it’s cold fingers around my heart, I told myself to stay calm. The last thing I probably needed to do was wake up the naked dude, and any sudden movements would surely do that. When I lifted the thin sheet that clung to my body, I saw that I was also naked. My heart sped a little faster.
As my eyes began to adjust to the light, the first thing I spotted was a pile of clothes. I couldn’t remember what I had been wearing, but they must’ve been mine. The crumpled up top was pink with sequins on it. I highly doubted that it belonged to the naked man. The pile of clothes was just out of reach, so a plan started forming in my head. One step at a time.
I looked over to the stranger and took him in, hoping that it might jog some memory. Tattoos trailed down his back like lightning bolts. His arms were covered with everything from barbed wire to pinup girls. The man had plenty of room for tattoos. He was hulking, even lying flat on his stomach unconscious. Every bit of him rippled with muscle. The sheet barely covered him, and I had a clear view all the way down past his tight ass.
Did I fuck him? What kind of question is that? We’re both naked. I tried to remember his name. I tried to remember anything about him, but it was no use. I couldn’t even remember my own name.
Obviously something had happened. I didn’t know what, but I knew I had to get out of there. It was dirty, dangerous, and the walls felt like they were closing in. Moving at a snail’s pace, I began to shift my weight to the edge of the mattress. The naked man’s chest was still moving up and down slowly. It felt like five minutes went by, but it was probably just a few seconds. I slid my bare feet to the floor and prepared to push myself up. Then I heard him stirring.
I froze in place, hoping he’d relax, again. He let out a sleepy grunt, and I held my breath. When the grunts turned into coughing, I contemplated making a run for it. When he slid a hand over and laid it on my thigh, I thought my heart would give out. My breath caught in my throat, and I bit my bottom lip.
His face was still push down in the pillows, but his words were clear enough, “Hey there sweet thing, how ‘bout we start this morning right?”
I was in the eye of a hurricane. Walls of destruction surrounded me, but I was in a peaceful and quiet center. Maybe it was my mind shielding me from what was happening. I slowly turned to him.
The large man rolled onto his side, and my eyes grew big. His junk was exposed to me, and despite all my fears, I couldn’t turn away. It was big. Big big. He was rock hard and throbbing. I hated myself for getting distracted by it. None of my questions have been answered, I was in an unfamiliar place, and just a few seconds before, I had been trying to make my escape.
The second thing I noticed besides his giant cock were his eyes. They were two green jades, locked on to me. The look on his face told me that he knew me. It didn’t feel like a one night stand, at least. He gave my thigh squeeze. trying to let his body do the talking.
I gave him the most noncommittal smile I could manage before sliding the rest of the way off the bed. I took the sheet with me, wrapping it around myself as I stood up. I knew there was no sense in covering up, since we both going to bed naked, but I wanted to spare what dignity I could.
When I reached down for my clothes, the man spoke again. Sleep was still slurring his words, “Whoa, whoa. I say something wrong?”
“No.” After the initial shock, I was able to pry my eyes away from his package and his bright green eyes. I didn’t want to look at him, and I didn’t want his eyes on me. “I’m sorry, I just…I have to get going. I have to get going back to my place.” Whatever lie it takes to get free.
After lifting up the pink shirt with sequins in the shape of a skull, I grabbed for my jeans. Scooping those up, as well, I hunted for a bra and panties. They weren’t beneath the jeans. I quickly looked around, but didn’t see either anywhere. Great, I didn’t wear anything underneath. What in the hell did I do the night before?
“Your place?” He chuckled a little bit, and for some reason I hated him in that moment. “I’m the one playing couch surfer. That fall must’ve been worse than I thought. Baby, this is your place.”
I almost dropped the sheet. I looked back to the disgusting and dirty walls and the mattress lying on the floor. What? I actually live here? My jaw tightened, and a lump came to my throat. I looked around the walls once again. There were a few posters taped to the walls with duct tape. A few pushpins held chinsy necklaces by the door. Hell, even the door had a few holes punched into it. Was this my life? Was I broke and unemployed?
As much as it killed me, I had to talk to the guy. He knew it was my place, so maybe he knew more. What had he mentioned about a fall?
“I fell?” I turned away from him and dropped the sheet halfway. It was nearly impossible to put my shirt on and hold up the sheet at the same time, but I managed.
I heard the man stirring in bed, but I didn’t their turnaround. I had seen enough of his cock for one day. “Oh yeah. You got into it with some bitch at the Watering Hole, and you had her on the ropes before you tripped and cracked your head on the bar.”
The stranger laughed as I took in what he told me. I didn’t just fall. I had been in a fight? Out of instinct, I brought a hand up to my face. The second I touch my cheek, more pain exploded. I could feel the tenderness and swel
ling. I had been in a fight. With whom? Where? Every bit of information only gave me more questions to ask. God, I was going crazy.
I finally got the shirt over my head, and I turned back to the man. “What watering hole?” I hope that one of the answers he gave would spark something, and the rest of my memory would come rushing back. So far, it wasn’t.
“Damn, baby. How hung over are you? Not a watering hole. The Watering Hole. That’s the name of the place. Don’t you remember?”
No. No I did not. My memory wasn’t coming back, so I had to go all in. “I don’t remember anything.”
He laughed again. God, I was getting tired of his fucking laughter. I was no one, I was nothing, I was empty, and he was laughing about the good time we supposedly had last night.
My hands gripped at the sheet tighter, and I turned to face him, “I don’t know my name. I don’t know who you are. I don’t know how in the absolute hell we end up naked in the same bed together. Apparently this is my bed, I don’t even know. My complete memory is gone, do you get that?”
I guess being screamed at was enough to get through to him. The laughter and a cocky smile fell away. He pulled himself to a sitting position, “Wait, are you serious? It’s not just last night you don’t remember?”
As much as I hated to do it, I shook my head back and forth. His eyes went wide. It was as if he woke up to the reality right then and there. His thick arms clasped together over his big cock. “Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t know. God damn, this probably feels really rapey, don’t it?”
The man scrambled around on his side of the mattress and grabbed a pair of boxer briefs. While he was distracted, I took that opportunity to turn and pulled my jeans up my legs, as well. As I did, I saw bruising toward the back of my left thigh. When I brought my hand to it, I felt the pain and tenderness all the way up my ass and my lower back. Jesus, did I get my ass kicked?
Despite the fear and confusion, I felt a little better once I was dressed. I would have felt more comfortable with the bra, since the cold room was making my nipples pretty damn visible through the shirt, but it was better than waking up naked. I looked out the window, but it didn’t give me any clues. I saw foothills in the distance. Everything between the window and those hills with brown. The air conditioner was grinding out at full blast, so I made a guess that we were somewhere hot. One question kept coming back to me. I woke up naked next to a stranger, and I was freaked out, but why wasn’t I more freaked out? Why wasn’t I scrambling for a phone, screaming, fighting for my life, or just trying to escape?
The man stood, pulling a pair of ratty jeans of his legs as he did. He coughed and cleared his throat, then ran a hand through his shaggy dark curls. He gave me a smile, but this one was apologetic. It was acceptable. “Well, let me introduce myself, I guess. The name’s Denny, but everyone calls me Thunder.”
“Who in the hell would call you Thunder?”
He gave me a strange look, but then must’ve remembered that I was starting from scratch. “Everyone in the biker club. I’m part of the Rising Sons Motorcycle Club.” The name didn’t mean anything to me, and I’m sure that look was painted on my face. “It’s… It’s kind of a big deal motorcycle club. How much do you remember?” Denny—or Thunder, I guess— grabbed a black T-shirt from the floor. It was a shame to see that broad, inked chest covered up. Get your mind on the problem at hand, dammit. God, why was he so distracting?
I shook my head, half answering his question and half pulling myself from the gutter, “All of this is new information to me. Can you do me a favor and tell me my name?” Again, I didn’t know why I wasn’t more scared. That was scarier than anything else.
“Well, around the club you call yourself Patience.”
I put my hands up, “Stop. Just stop. I call myself Patience? You’re telling me you don’t know my real name?” The anger and fear was beginning to get to me. My voice was getting higher and louder, “What in the fuck is going on? What happened last night?”
“Okay, okay, calm down. I’ll tell you everything I know. The first thing I know is that you got a coffee pot in the kitchen. You sit down; I’ll make us some brew.”
Strangely enough, the coffee helped calm me down. Nothing in the kitchen sparked my memory, but at least Thunder was doing his best to help me. He turned off the stove, the red ring’s glow beginning to fade. Dropping into the chair opposite me, he let out a heavy sigh and took a whiff of the coffee.
“I guess I’ll start back as early as I can. I joined the Rising Sons three months ago. The club’s only been up in Davis for about six months. They’ve been around in Bakersfield for two decades, though. So, anyway. The president’s son comes up here and sets up shop. Buys some burned out wreck and turns it into the Watering Hole. Something big goes down in Las Vegas, a bunch of new people join, yada yada yada. You started hangin’ around the club maybe a month ago, or so. Moved in real nice and easy. I don’t know you all that well, so I only know what other people say. Everybody calls you Patience. I asked somebody last week why.
“He told me you were called Patience because you were systematically fucking every single Rising Son in the Davis chapter.”
It was just getting worse and worse. Every time Thunder spoke, my life got worse. Maybe it would’ve been better not to know. I woke up with a blank slate. I could have been anyone I wanted to. Instead, I had to ask questions. The answers? Oh, nothing. I was just some biker bar slut trying to check off every bearded Harley jockey I could find.
“Look, I can tell that you’re a little bit shocked. Totally understandable. Let me get to the fight.”
Great. How can things get worse? “Yeah, I’d like to know why I’m black and blue all over.”
“Because you’re a sad panther.” Thunder stared at me, a ridiculous grin on his face.
I gave him an equally ridiculous look, “Huh?”
“Black and blue. Like a sad panther? Nevermind, just trying to bring a bit of levity to the whole situation.” I went from ridiculous to angry. Thunder got the hint. “No levity. I understand. So, the fight?”
“Yes, the fight.” I was beyond impatient. Thunder didn’t know my real name, and any information he had given only dug daggers into my heart.
“So you were gaming after the president of our chapter, Trask Rivers. He’s one of like three Rising Sons you hadn’t fu-“ Thunder stopped mid word. Up to that moment, he had been everything I expected out of a biker. He was rude, arrogant, and selfish. “You hadn’t become acquainted with personally.” He chose his words carefully, and it changed my opinion slightly.
He understood that I was in a bad way, and I needed a bit of gentle care. I’m sure a man nicknamed Thunder wasn’t used to being gentle, but at least he was learning.
“Well, Trask’s got himself a pretty good thing going, and so he politely declined. You weren’t too happy about it, and you spun around to leave. Keep in mind, you were pretty hammered at this point. When you spun around, you knocked into another…one of the other ladies that frequents the Watering Hole. She was pretty pissed, and then the shit was on. Hair pulling, scratching, you name it.”
I could hear Thunder getting excited as he relived the fight. Men. They do love a good cat fight. I wanted to roll my eyes, but I was doing my best to hang onto his story.
“Mhm.”
He got the hint, again. Maybe he wasn’t as thick as I figured. “One of you, not sure which, twisted the other around, and you ended up falling backwards and slamming your dome on the corner of the bar. You didn’t go out cold, but you were beyond disoriented. That’s when I stepped in, literally. The other chick left in a huff, and we got some ice on the back of your head. After fifteen minutes or so, you seemed better, but you weren’t really talking. A few of us suggested taking you to the emergency room, but you shrugged us off. Closing time rolled around, and you were pretty insistent that I see you home.”