As Rutherford beckoned in the distance, I eyed the town. It was small fry, but it was home. The place was too tiny to sustain schools or much of a working town center, and that was why most of the businesses were based in Jonsson. Before Bomber had even established the clubhouse here, he’d set up links in the larger city, which was a thirty-minute ride away.
We had several businesses that laundered our cash and added to the club’s coffers, but they pulled in nothing like the runs or the hits.
Still, Johnson was large enough to have a doctor’s office, and even then, it was because of all the cattle ranches in the vicinity. I’d worked at one the summer before I turned eighteen—fuck, I’d never seen so many weird injuries in my life. And I’d been raised in a goddamn MC.
Dust flew as I powered down the byroads to reach the town center where the office was, and all the while, Lucie clung to me with a trust that never seemed to have died.
It was like it had only been in stasis. Like her love had been too. I guess a lot of people might have found it weird, her being that loyal to a bunch of guys who’d let her down in the worst possible way. Guys who’d declared they’d loved her with one breath then turned their backs on her the next, but loyalty was bred into the club.
We were nothing without brothers, nothing without the ties that bound us together. We weren’t all blood related, but that didn’t matter. We didn’t all like each other, and that mattered even less.
But we’d been living a lie. Bomber was the biggest traitor of us all. We had a leak in our ranks, one who was feeding shit to the Guerrera Cartel as well as our rivals, Satan’s Knights MC, and apparently, some dumb fuck who was following around one of our sweetbutts’ kids with intent to harm.
What the hell was going on with my MC?
As I braked to a halt, Lucie was practically bouncing with excitement behind me.
“Been a long time since you rode bitch, huh?” I teased, as she clambered off the back and after I cut my engine. The silence of the parking lot let me hear her reply.
“Yeah,” she retorted, pulling off her helmet and letting her glorious hair fly out in a wave. She punched me in the shoulder. “I used to ride my own, but I sold it to get back down here.”
I cocked a brow at her as I climbed off my hog too. “Ryan let you have a bike?”
“There’s no letting me do shit,” she scoffed, shoving my arm again.
Laughing, I shook my head. “You know you can’t do that now you’re an old lady, though, right?”
Her bottom lip popped out. “That sucks.”
“You know I’m right,” was all I said, as we crossed the dusty lot and headed toward the clinic’s doors.
“Yeah, I do. Small price to pay, plus you guys ride the best anyway. I’ll still get my kicks.”
I snorted. “Thanks for the compliment.”
She winked at me, and even though my head was fucked up over what was going to go down today, I had to admit, she lightened the load just by being here.
Lucie did that to me. She always had.
I had a tendency to overthink shit, to get too involved in things. Bomber had told me once that was why I made a great Treasurer. I dealt with the books, sure, but I also knew how to manipulate them to beat the system, and had more shit in my head about tax evasion than some guys knew about their favorite sports team.
Lucie always kept things simple. At least, she did for me. When she was there, my world revolved around her.
See? Simple.
When she wasn’t, that was when things changed.
Even if she did have a habit of bringing chaos with her wherever she went, like a biker’s version of Pandora, what I felt for her wasn’t complicated.
Yeah, I loved her, but it went deeper than that.
The thirty-minute wait in the doctor’s office should have been miserable, but instead, Lucie had me muffling my laughs as two old ladies waiting on appointments glowered at me. The older generation of Rutherford, ironically enough, were rarely intimidated by us. I wasn’t sure why, but I figured it had something to do with seeing most of the recent recruits grow up.
Mrs. Tanner, for example, had worked at our high school. We’d been hell-raisers back then, but we’d never fazed her. Didn’t faze her to this day if that glower was anything to go by.
It was a relief when we got back on my bike and started the return journey to the clubhouse. I didn’t like what we were about to do, but it felt weird having her out in the open. With her being in an active threat situation, I wanted her back where she was safe.
After being tucked in a cast for over a month, her arm was paler in contrast to her good one, and it was still slightly weaker, but it felt better against my belly as we rode home, and she even nuzzled into me more, which was never a bad thing. I could feel her excitement. It seemed to throb as hard as the engine between my legs.
“What is it?” she hollered at me, and when her hands roamed over my stomach, I knew she was turned on just as much as me.
We were in a wooded area that I knew didn’t get much traffic, because this was where the sheriffs in the area came to nap—it was our business to know where the pigs were.
The second we were in the shade, I cut the engine entirely and the silence seemed to cut through me.
I didn’t need to prompt her. She let out a squeal that had me laughing as she jumped off. I climbed off my bike too, and the second I was standing, she threw herself at me.
Within thirty seconds, she was in my arms and my mouth was on hers. Having clamped her legs around my thighs, I could feel the heat from her pussy and groaned as I rested my hands on her ass and began to knead those delicious cheeks.
I grunted as her kiss turned naughty, decadent. She thrust into my mouth, and I let her, let her take charge as she fucked me slowly, softly, before taking things up a notch. My heart pounded as her fingers ran through my hair, and when I felt the burn of her nails on my scalp, my own dug into her ass.
I had a decision to make—fuck her over my bike or against a tree.
That was a pretty hard choice to make, I figured.
Like she knew what I was thinking, she pulled away, her pupils dilated, as she whispered, “Bike.”
I grinned at her, leaned forward, and pressed my lips to her throat. Fluttering my tongue there, I murmured, “Bike it is.”
She jumped down as quickly as she’d leaped up, and I’d never been so grateful for the skirt she wore. Reaching underneath it, I hauled her panties down and told her, “Leave them down around your ankles. Got to shackle you somehow.”
Her snicker melted me just as much as her pussy would make my dick melt from her scorching heat. As she leaned over the bike, her hands against the leather seat, I grunted at the sight, then groaned as she stuck her ass out, revealing the plump, slick lips of her sex.
My mouth watered, and as we both knew what was about to go down the second we made it back to the clubhouse, it seemed like we both wanted to procrastinate.
Safe in the knowledge that no one came out here because of the cops, I figured we had twenty minutes to play with.
Dropping to my knees, I pushed my face between her thighs and tongued her clit. As she rocked against the bike, her legs spread slightly, but they were contained by her small G-string. I grinned against her cunt, then tongue-fucked her until sharp cries were escaping her.
When I felt her come around my tongue, I jumped up, unfastened my fly, and released my cock. Holding on to it firmly, I tapped her clit before guiding the tip through all her juices. I pushed into her hard and fast, loving the tight clench of her pussy around my dick.
I was an ass man, a BJ man, but nothing beat my woman’s pussy. Not even her ass or mouth.
As I thrust into her, that bullshit about coming home resonated with me so deeply, I had to close my eyes to savor the moment.
Fuck, she felt so good.
Like heaven and hell combined.
I rammed into her, loving the way she arched up on her tiptoes. Her should
ers lowered as she moved down to lean on her elbows, and her stance widened so she could take every single one of my thrusts.
As I fucked her over my bike, I knew that today would forever be etched into my memory banks. Not just for this, but for so many fucking bad reasons too. I didn’t think about those now though. Just thought about her, about how good she felt, how right.
Bending over her, I pressed my teeth to the shoulder that was exposed by her wife beater and reached around so I could play with her clit again.
As I rubbed her there, touched her, she grunted before she released a keening sound, long and low, that prefaced her climax.
The feel of her clamping down on me, clutching around me, was like a sweet form of torture.
Within seconds, I was coming too. I could feel my cum boiling in my balls, desperate to be freed, to be released into her wet and willing pussy.
I closed my eyes, and for those few seconds, shut down. Let my body focus on her, on our mutual pleasure in each other’s bodies.
And that was my mistake.
I only heard them when it was too late.
As something hard connected with my head, a scream escaped my woman. I couldn’t help her though, couldn’t do shit as I staggered back and fell to my knees.
Woozy, my eyes were dazed as I tried to focus. I scrambled for the gun I’d tucked into my waistband, but before I could even reach it, that metal ‘something’ connected with my head again.
And even as I hated myself for being so fucking stupid as to stop at the side of the road for a quick fuck, when I knew how active the threat was against her, my thoughts were no good to anyone.
The last thing I heard was Lucie scream, “Dagger!” before everything went black, and I tumbled into unconsciousness.
❖
Lucie
Seeing the cuts should have filled me with confidence, only it didn’t.
It could have been the cartel, could have been one of Carlos Rodriguez’s men who was looking to take me down because my father had sold me down the line a long time ago.
But it wasn’t.
It was an MC.
Just not my MC.
Well, the Rebels weren’t exactly mine. Not yet, at any rate. Not until I’d proven myself, until I’d shown them I wasn’t the traitor my father had told them I was.
Still, they were bikers. Bikers who’d appeared in a cage of all fucking things, because if they’d been riding hogs, we’d have heard the sneaky bastards. As it was, they got the drop on us too well.
I didn’t go quietly. I kicked and I hit and I spat at them, but there was a gun to my forehead now with the safety off. If I moved, I’d already been told the bastard would shoot me, and if he didn’t, there were the guys in the cage with me now, then the four bikers who were riding at our sides who’d appeared out of nowhere once we traveled a good twenty or so miles.
When they’d hit Dagger, they’d quickly tried to gather me. At first, I thought they were going to rape me, but they didn’t. Instead, one of them hauled me over his shoulder even as I was trying to drag my fucking panties up over my knees, and began running with me down the side of the road.
For endless seconds, I’d been speechless, totally at a loss, then I’d realized they’d knocked Dagger out and I’d screamed his name. That had been my wake-up call. I’d started clawing at him like the angel of hell I was named for. It hadn’t worked. My nails couldn’t do any damage to fucking denim, and when the bastard dropped me on the ground, I took the chance to reach for the knife I had tucked in my boot.
Even as I grabbed the hilt, a gun was in my face, and only that had shut me up. I had continued to remain quiet as I was bustled into this cage, and transported only the fuck knew where.
We drove down back roads and side roads that were more rock and pebble than anything else, heading farther away from humanity.
I hadn’t even seen their cuts because the bikers were riding just behind us, so I could see their faces but not their patches.
All I knew was that they’d taken Dagger down—was he dead? Fuck, was he? Dear God, I couldn’t survive if I lost another of my men. I couldn’t. And Amaryllis? Oh hell, what would she do once she knew I’d been taken? If Dagger was dead, that meant she’d lost two daddies in a year—
I clenched my eyes closed as tears cascaded from them. I wanted to stop their fall, didn’t want to reveal such a weakness, but I just couldn’t help myself.
Where she was concerned, I was weak. I was helpless.
The motion of the cage changed, the texture of the road altered, shifting from hard and rocky to smooth asphalt.
Opening my eyes, I saw the gates ahead, which were open to let us through.
We pulled up outside a kind of warehouse. It was corrugated iron that had been painted a weird hunter green. With a curved roof, it was over twenty feet high, and looked like some kind of shitty bomb shelter.
The gun jammed into my temple, and I cried out as the metal connected with bone.
If it had been one-on-one, I’d have beaten the shit out of the bastard. Made earrings out of his balls. But he had a gun, while I was now unarmed.
There was no excuse for how slow I’d been to react. Orgasms didn’t make you stupid. Hell, we should never have stopped in the first place, and the fact that Dagger had, told me how messed up he was in the head over what was going to go down the second we made it back to the clubhouse… His desire to procrastinate and my desire for him had led to this moment.
I was fucked.
And Dagger might be dead.
Rage over that, and rage at myself for not telling him to get back on the road hit me, made me stagger once my feet hit the graveled drive.
The biker who’d kept the gun pressed to my temple lowered the weapon the second I was out of the cage though, and the team of eight moved around me in a circle now that the bikers had cut their engines.
With them around me, I saw that the door to the warehouse had opened and a man walked out. It was a surreal moment because from his patches, I knew he was Prez, and now I’d finally gotten a chance to see the back of the riders’ cuts, I knew who had taken me—Satan’s Knights.
Was I scared?
Not much scared me, not much except for the Grim Reaper, and it figured that it was my turn for a visit from him because the Knights would only have brought me here to kill me.
After they tortured me.
And after they tormented my men with my torture.
The knowledge that I was going to be used against them filled me with rage, but it was useless. Futile. My feelings didn’t matter here. At the moment, I was a commodity. I’d always been that. Something to trade, to use. As much as it infuriated me, I knew I was about to be stashed away in some shitty little cage where the MC kept their prisoners.
Fuck, the Rebels had one in the basement. It was just off the meeting room where they held church, so they could literally go from torturing a goddamn enemy and straight into business mode.
My world was fucked up, but what was more fucked up was that, as the Knights’ Prez walked toward me, I didn’t show a lick of fear. I tipped my chin back and stared him down.
He was in his fifties and, I had to admit, quite handsome for a silver fox. He wore the usual MC uniform of jeans, boots, wifebeater, and cut. In this weather, there was nothing else to wear, and bikers didn’t exactly give a shit about sunburns—not until it hit them and then they whined like motherfuckers.
Truly, I’d seen kids with more stamina when it came to sunburns.
His hair was dark silver, his eyes a light green, and though he had crinkles at the side of his eyes above his strong brows, there was something about him I recognized.
From the mirror.
Fuck.
I had to be wrong.
Reaching up, I rubbed at my temple. “Tell me this is a fucking joke, please?”
The man smirked. “I see you’ve noticed the similarities.”
“There are plenty of—”
“Let�
��s cut the BS. You know I’m your father.” He stared at me before he clicked his fingers. At his silent command, the bikers spread out, moving away but staying close enough to be able to hustle forward if I did anything stupid like try to run away.
Because, yeah, I’d also had ‘moron’ tattooed on my forehead when I’d had my men’s claims inked into my skin.
I was on their territory, away from everyone I knew, without a weapon or a cellphone thanks to the fact my purse was tucked into Dagger’s saddlebags. Fuck, it was like since I’d come back to Rutherford, I’d left my goddamn brains back in Lubbock.
There was no excuse, no excuse whatsoever.
“You think you’re my dad?” I rasped, even though I had to admit, we did look alike.
“Know it.” His lips twitched. “Maria was my girlfriend before she was Bomber’s old lady.” When he uttered Bomber’s name, he spat, and though it was disgusting, I felt the same way about the bastard who’d reared me.
“Yeah? Well, you forget you had a woman and a baby on the way?”
He shook his head. “Got banged up. Fifteen to twenty.” His smile tightened. “Got out six years ago.”
My brow puckered. “Six years ago?” When I was eighteen?
“Been looking for you ever since.”
Narrowing my eyes at him, I folded my arms across my chest and snarled, “Why? I didn’t need a daddy then and I sure as fuck don’t need one now.”
His smile didn’t falter, but I saw his irritation—probably wasn’t used to females who talked back, well, he was in for a shit time because that was all I did.
“Don’t you? I thought you had a little problem with the Guerreras?” He stressed the word ‘little’ and I wanted, so badly, to flip him the bird, but that wouldn’t exactly be wise, would it? I still had no idea what the dick wanted, and I doubted it was a family reunion considering his MC was at war with the Rebels’.
I gritted my teeth. “What do you know about that?”
All Sinner No Saint Page 19