“He just smashed the glass. Should be safe to drive once we clean it up.”
I nodded.
“Sorry to do this, Krista, but we didn’t stop to grab a truck. You’ll need to ride bitch on our bikes to get back to the clubhouse.” Tate squeezed my shoulder and gave Becky a smile. “Wanna ride on my bike?”
Full mama bear activated. He wanted to put my six-year-old on the back of a motorcycle? I pulled Becky behind me.
“Mommy, Mr. Tate said a bad word.”
“Becky, stop tattling,” I said without even looking at her. I glared at Tate. “You want my kid on the back of a motorcycle? Are you crazy? She can’t hold on. We’ll walk. It’s only four miles. I’ve done it before.”
Police sirens screamed out in the distance. This evening was pretty horrible, but the cops would make it so much worse. Not just for me, but for Tate and Berdoo. Even though they were just protecting me, the cops might see it as assault. Besides, there was no telling what story Robby would spin when he woke up.
“We gotta go. You can stay and wait for the cops, or you can ride on the bike back to the clubhouse,” Berdoo said. “You can put her between us so she doesn’t fall off. Hold on to her. I’ll be gentle.”
Who the hell was this guy? “We’re riding with Tate.”
My boss cleared his throat. “Actually, you’re riding with him. I took off my passenger seat the other day so I could swap out a new gas tank.”
I looked at the two bikes. Damn. I was not riding on the back of this guy’s bike. “We’ll walk. I’ll meet you at the clubhouse in about an hour and a half.”
In the biker world, having a woman on the back meant one thing: Old Lady. Permanence. Responsibility. If I sat on the back of Berdoo’s bike and the whole club saw it, there would be assumptions. Ownership would be implied. My job as everyone’s girlfriend for money would be down the drain in an instant.
The sirens were getting louder as Tate grabbed my arm. “You gotta do it, and I sent the rest of the guys on a run to Portland. No one will know but us.”
I looked at Berdoo. I could jump on the back of his bike or explain to the cops how Robby beat himself to a bloody pulp while I was cowering in the back room with my kid. That was a sure ticket to an investigation by Child Protective Services.
“Whatever. I don’t care who we ride with, let’s just get out of here.”
Berdoo handed me his helmet and Becky and I walked over to the bikes. I knew which one was Tate’s, so I climbed on the other. I settled Becky in front of me. This was so unsafe, but waiting around for the cops or for Robby to regain consciousness would result in multiple arrests. Berdoo sat in front of Becky and started the engine. The club logo on the back of his cut was a stylized devil, with horns and a long tongue. The Storm Kings logo was a crown with a lightning bolt. This guy wasn’t a King, but Tate treated him like it. Interesting.
He leaned forward and I saw the name of his club in the shadows. Demon Horde.
The bike jumped a little and I leaned forward to grab Becky. Then I realized that wasn’t going to be safe either. I needed an anchor, something to keep me from falling off. I needed to hold on to him.
The engine turned over and the bike vibrated beneath me. In that instant, I understood why women liked it here in the back. The seat on the back of the bike meant status and power. It meant that you were more than just a piece of ass. It meant you were an old lady, someone honored by the club. I didn’t deserve that status. But, here I was, a whore on the back of a stranger’s bike with my daughter between us.
“Hold on to me. I’ll keep you steady.”
I knew he was talking about the ride to the clubhouse. He would keep us steady during the ride, but it sounded like an offer for something more. I was pathetic, fantasizing about a man who could solve all of my problems while on the back of a goddamn motorcycle. Wrapping my arms around his middle, I squished Becky between us. Better to be squished than for her to fall off.
The wind picked up as we headed out of the parking lot. We turned, but off in the distance, I could see the red and blue flashing lights. The noise of the sirens finally faded after a few blocks.
Even though it was past eleven o’clock, Tacoma was still alive and awake. We stopped at a red light and Berdoo put his foot down to steady the bike. My face was still buried in his back, mostly because it helped keep my balance and helped me cocoon Becky. But part of me enjoyed the sensation of his warm, hard back against my cheek. It was solid, something dependable. He was safe. Anytime I started to depend on someone else, usually Robby, my life went to shit. Even pretending to find safety with this guy was a luxury I couldn’t have.
I started to pull my head up, pull away, but then I felt his hands over mine. He wanted me to stay. He didn’t say a word, but the soft touch told me everything. It was safety, reassurance, but also possession. He wanted me to stay close.
I wanted it too. I wanted to stay close, snuggle against him, listen to him tell me that everything was going to be all right. I didn’t even know his name, but I knew what I wanted from him. Safety and security. I leaned in and pressed my cheek to his back. Before I had clasped my hands around his front, but now I let my fingers relax and spread over his stomach. His stomach was flat cords of muscle. The muscles were bunched and hard beneath my fingers. Did I make him nervous?
Of course he was tense. He had a crazy woman on the back of his bike. My ex had just smashed my car and tried to get into my apartment, and here I was feeling him up with my daughter between us. I clenched my hands again and waited for the ride to be over.
The bike bounced as we rolled over the curb and into the club’s compound. I held onto him with one arm and squeezed Becky with the other, to make sure she didn’t fall off. We rolled into the parking lot and he stopped the bike in front of door to the main bar. He lifted Becky off, and she was all smiles.
“I want to go again!”
Berdoo looked at me, as if unsure whether or not he should answer. Good call—I was glad he didn’t immediately promise her another ride.
“Maybe another time, honey. It’s time for bed.” I took her hand and we walked into the clubhouse.
It didn’t take long to get Becky settled in my bed. My room at the clubhouse was about the size of a large closet, but it had enough room for a twin-sized bed and a tiny bathroom with a shower stall. It was nice having my own space, and Tate realized that a woman who screwed guys for money needed a shower at her disposal. It wasn’t grand, but it would be just fine for a sleepover with Becky. It was four hours past her bedtime and she turned off like a light.
I, on the other hand, was too keyed up to even think about sleep. I put away a few things that I didn’t want Becky to see. Lube, condoms, the usual tools of the sex trade. I threw it all into the top drawer of the bureau. She wasn’t tall enough to reach in there yet. Becky was used to Mommy’s wigs and skimpy costumes, so I left those in the closet. I had quite the collection from when I used to work as a stripper. Becky thought I really liked Halloween.
When there was nothing left to clean or hide in my room, I ventured downstairs. I’d left the bar clean, but it could really use a once-over with the wood soap. Maybe that would put me to sleep.
“Hey, Krista.” Tate’s voice echoed a little through the empty clubhouse. It was odd that the entire club was on a run. They went in groups, but never all of them together. Tate was definitely up to something by having an empty clubhouse when Berdoo was visiting.
Tate and Berdoo were sitting at one of the tables, a six-pack between them. “Come over here and join us.”
The last thing I wanted to do was go over there. I didn’t want to explain why Robby was pounding on my door and threatening to kill me in the middle of the night.
“Sure.” I forced a smile and sat down at the table, grabbing a beer. If I had to calmly chat with my boss after he and Berdoo
just beat the shit out of my ex, I was gonna need alcohol.
“This is Colt. He’s up visiting from the Demon Horde Chapter in Southern California.”
“Our Chapter is based in San Bernardino, Berdoo for short,” Colt explained.
So Berdoo had a real name. I studied him in the bar light. His hair was dark but buzzed. His nose had a few bumps, like it had been broken a few times. That wasn’t unusual. Pretty much all the guys here had bumpy noses. It was his mouth that made me take notice. Full lips that just begged to be kissed. A square jaw that made me want to take little nips all around.
I nearly dropped my beer. I found this guy attractive.
In the movies, you see prostitutes as either sex-crazed nymphomaniacs or desperate, drug-dependent junkies. I was neither. Prostitution had turned me into a non-sexual being. I didn’t find anyone attractive anymore. I simply sized them up to figure out how to best get them off and get the largest tip.
But not this guy. Colt. I remembered the warmth of his body under my fingertips and I wanted to see how his lips felt against mine.
I sipped my beer while the men chatted. Colt’s tattoos were of a grinning devil riding a motorcycle. There was no crown, no lightning bolt, none of the tattoos I was used to seeing. This guy was different. His forearm flexed as he took a swig of beer. His hands were large—they would be firm, but not painful. The way he had stroked my hand when were on the back of his bike, I knew. He would be a good lover. My eyes trailed back up his forearm and down again.
“I’m gonna get some antiseptic for your hands.” Jumping off my barstool, I sort of announced it into the air, like I was back in high school and too scared to actually talk to the man.
I walked behind the bar and grabbed the first aid kit, like I’d done a hundred times before. I’d patched up Skeeter and Rip—all the guys, really. After they got into a fight, I would always get out the bandages and ointment.
Colt was just another brother at the clubhouse. Maybe if I repeated that twenty times, I would believe it.
Don’t miss ENFORCER’S PRICE by Sarah Hawthorne
Available now wherever Carina Press ebooks are sold.
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Copyright © 2017 by Sarah Hawthorne
Also available from Sarah Hawthorne
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in the Demon Horde Series
Enforcer’s Price
And coming soon in the Demon Horde Series
Outlaw Ride
About the Author
Sarah Hawthorne lives in the Pacific Northwest and drinks coffee in the winter and champagne in the summer. She enjoys writing, gardening and planning vacations. Please visit Sarah at www.sarahhawthorne.com.
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Welcome to the Haven Brotherhood
A new series from Rhenna Morgan that delivers an alpha hero and a hot read you won’t be able to put down.
Live hard, f*ck harder and follow only their own rules. Those are the cornerstones the six men of the Haven Brotherhood live and bleed by, refusing to conform to society’s expectations, taking what they want and always watching each other’s backs.
ROUGH & TUMBLE
A self-made man with his fingers in a variety of successful businesses, Jace Kennedy lives for the challenge and he always gets what he wants. From the start, he sees Vivienne Moore’s hidden wild side and knows she’s his perfect match, if only he can break it free. He will have her. One way or another.
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—#1 New York Times bestselling author Audrey Carlan (Calendar Girl series)
WILD & SWEET
Zeke Dugan is not a man who walks the straight and narrow. He may have sworn an oath as a trauma doc, but he has zero problem leveraging his medical skills outside a hospital if it means giving the Brotherhood—the group of men he calls family—an advantage. Blood before business. All that changes when shy Gabrielle stumbles into his life and ignites his protective instincts.
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ISBN-13: 9781488024429
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Copyright © 2017 by Sarah Hawthorne
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