by Annie Buff
“ Make her yours Bones. Trust me man, you'll spend every damn day regretting it if you don’t.” With that Smoke rode off into the night leaving Bones in the parking lot. He knew Smoke was right, he’d already admitted that but his instinct was to keep her safe and out of this chaotic world he lived in. Fuckit, he thought as he hit the throttle. He was completely in love and she had to know it.
Bullets And Bones
Bones rode from Handlebars towards where Wisha lived, there was a fresh mist of rain on the asphalt so he rode with care. He didn’t want to show up on her doorstep bloody from laying down his ride. And he certainly didn’t want to fuck up the five-thousand-dollar paint job he’d had done custom when he bought the Fat Boy.
Bones wasn’t paying attention, not the way he should have been when he rounded the corner on her street. The sting hit him hard, piercing his left shoulder. Someone had just shot him, he could feel the warmth of blood dripping down his back. He needed to get
somewhere safe and call his
President. Wisha’s house was just a half a block away but going there meant putting her in harm’s way. He could barely hold the bike up so there wasn’t any choice.
Wisha heard the banging and realized it was her door. She had no idea who in the world would be knocking at two in the morning but when she looked through the peep hole she almost fainted. What she saw was a very bloody Bones.
“Oh shit Zeke, what happened?” She asked him before he collapsed into her arms.
He was attempting to tell her what happened but he was struggling to breathe and making no sense. Wisha was on the verge of a total freak out. She wanted to call nine-one-one but she knew that was the wrong move so she fumbled through his pockets until she found his phone and called Smoke.
“God dammit Bones what the fuck!” Smoke bellowed into the phone. “It’s Wisha, he’s here and he’s hurt. You need to come now!” The line went dead and she was thankful Smoke answered. Wisha sat on her floor holding Bones in her arms.
“Damn you Zeke Canfield, you can’t die! I am falling so hard for you, please don’t die you son of a bitch.” She told him in between the tears that had started. His blue shirt was soaked in red despite her best efforts to apply the right amount of pressure to slow the bleeding.
Smoke had everyone out of bed and on their way to Wisha’s house. The Vet had been called, they needed a medical professional there. He had no idea what was wrong with his friend but when Wisha called, the Calvary was going. Smoke wasn’t surprised Bones went to see her, after their talk he knew he would go to her. The roads were slightly slippery but Bones had been riding for years so if he wrecked his bike Smoke was going to give him so much shit Bones wouldn’t forget it.
A dozen Harley’s rumbled down the road towards the outskirts of town where Wisha lived. Each brother had his own set of worries about Bones. Bones was the one who took care of them when they themselves were injured, not one ever thought Bones would be the one to get hurt.
Smoke was the first through the door, finding his brother bleeding and
unconscious. Smoke gave him a once over to figure out what had happened and how to deal with the situation. Once he had determined it was a gunshot wound, they called for the van to transport him back to the clubhouse.
“Wisha, you need to ride his bi ke back. He wouldn’t want it left behind.” That wasn’t about to happen. She had every intention of being in that van holding on to him. No way was she going to ride his bike.
“Put the fucking bike in my garage, I’m riding with him! Don’t tell me no, it won’t make any difference. I was nice enough to call you before I called an ambulance, so let me be with him please.” The please that she managed to choke out hit Smoke where it hurt, right in the heart. Wisha had some serious feelings for his brother and he couldn’t say no. He saw love, well the beginning of love. He remembered that look in Peyton’s eyes too. He nodded, having Knuckles move the Fat Boy into the garage and move her red sports car so they could back up the van as close to the door as possible. They had to carry Bones and it would cause less damage if it was just a few feet, not yards.
With Bones in the van and Wisha sitting with him, Krispy drove cautiously and at exactly the speed limit to the clubhouse. Aside from the wet roads, there was no need to alert law
enforcement with reckless driving. The passenger with a bullet wound would cause more problems than anyone wanted to deal with. Krispy knew if he was pulled over for anything, Smoke would take him out back of the clubhouse and give him an ass kicking from Hell.
Dr. Doolittle, as the MC called him was waiting on the steps of the clubhouse for his patient. Peyton was with him, being much less patient than the vet was. He hadn’t been called to the Devil’s
clubhouse in a number of years, but when Smoke McAllister called, no one said no. Plus the fact Doolittle and Bones were friendly, no wasn’t an option. Doolittle liked him, Bones was a good man and he took care of the ones who had no money to pay. He himself had started doing the same for people that had animals in need and no funds to pay.
“Mrs. McAllister, they’re not far now. Less than ten minutes out. Maybe you want a drink or something to calm yourself down because I’m going to need your assistance.” She knew, every time one of them was hurt Peyton played nurse. In the beginning the blood made her queasy, but they got hurt so often she was used to it now.
Bones was still unconscious, which Doolittle was thrilled about. Removing a bullet from a patient that was awake was a shit job, one he had done many times for other MCs. Peyton had set up Bones surgical instruments, knowing what would be needed. She’d done this so many times by now. Bones being the patient made everything different though, he was always the one doing the surgeries. Seeing him bloodied on the table was unnerving. Doolittle gave him a shot of morphine and rolled him over so they could get the bullet out and sew him up as fast as possible, the longer it was inside him the possibility of lead poisoning was rising.
Wisha stayed as the vet dug, watching the blood running down Bones back. Peyton would glance over every so often and give her a slight nod. She was trying to be reassuring, even though Wisha could see the worry on her face.
Doolittle saw his patient starting to stir and hit him with another shot of morphine. There were just a few
fragments left and he needed to be sure none were missed. If even one shard of lead was left in, it would prove fatal and then Smoke McAllister would have his ass on a platter. As it was this had taken close to two hours and the sun was coming up.
After the last pebble of lead had been dropped into the scrap tray and Bones was being sewed up and bandaged. Wisha let out a sigh of relief, knowing the man she was falling hard for was going to be okay.
She knew if she was going to love him she would have to learn how to handle things like this. Bikers live in a different world. Honor, loyalty and respect was their code and Wisha was already starting to understand that and more. This wasn’t just a club, this was a family. One she knew she was about to become part of.
With Bones resting in Smoke’s living room, Wisha collapsed in the recliner next to him. Peyton had told her she was welcome to stay and she took her up on the offer. A man she didn’t know came in and sat on the floor. He was strikingly handsome with the greenest eyes she’d ever seen.
“Hi, I’m Slinger. Bones is tough, don’t worry he’s gonna be fine. I got some info on your department but get some sleep. You’re too tired to do anything about it now anyway. I’ll be here too, no worries. Okay?”
She smiled and nodded. As her eyes closed Wisha finally felt it, something she had never had before. She finally felt safe.
Dirty Dirty Cops
Smoke sat with Slinger discussing everything he’d come across. This was definitely going to make things
interesting. Not one of them wanted anything to do with the cops, but under these circumstances it was necessary. Bones had fallen for Wisha and she needed them. As Smoke listened to what Slinger had come up with he got
mad, then pissed, then mad again. They were in the clubhouse at the bar having coffee and chain smoking. Since the birth of Nora, smoking had been banned from the house and the clubhouse was his only refuge for a cigarette unless he wanted to stand out in the cold.
“Fuck!” Smoke screamed and threw an empty Jim Beam bottle across the room, successfully shattering it in hundreds of tiny bits. He had just been told not only were the cops selling the contraband, but they were also basically stealing from every bust. They were distributing cocaine and heroin for one Juan Carlos Gomez. Juan Carlos Gomez was otherwise known as Jefé. He’d also come across someone that had firsthand knowledge of the cops buying guns from Jefé. Big guns, the kind the military used and that was all kinds of bad.
“Prez, that cop that’s coming; he’s gonna have to get his hands dirty. No other way. We can’t infiltrate them. Cockroach already knows Bones is seeing Wisha. It won’t work any other way, Morrison’s gonna have to do it.”
Smoke knew his Ink Man was right. He was going to have to talk to the Detective, get him on board and hope he didn’t get killed in the process.
Doolittle knocked and let himself in. He had a list for taking care of Bones. Smoke read it and laughed, no sex for two weeks until the stitches came out. Knowing how bad his friend wanted to make that pretty redhead his own, that was going to be damn difficult. Doolittle told them he would be by in a day or two to check on Bones, but to call if anything changed with him.
While Bones slept, Smoke, Slinger and the rest of the crew went hot and heavy looking for anything else they could find. Smoke had his Prospect, Rory and his friend Nix, looking back down on the border for just exactly how that son of a bitch was getting through. He knew someone was being paid off, a rancher was giving him safe passage across the border. Nix and Rory went to talk to the ones that had the most property. Nix had thought it was possible that the property owner might not even have knowledge of it if the land was large enough.
Wisha took vacation time to tend to Bones, he could do very little for himself and since he had be insistent on going home; she went too. Wisha made sure he was fed properly and helped him with shirts and shoes. He was banned from the bike, driving in general for two weeks so she took him back and forth to the clubhouse. Bones made a terrible patient, and she told him so on several occasions. He had been bitching about a shower but since the vet said not to get the wound wet, that was out of the question.
“What if I ran a bath for you? You’ve got that gorgeous claw foot tub and I’m fairly certain relaxing in the hot water would feel good.”
Bones agreed with her, laying in the tub would probably provide some serious relaxation and maybe some personal time. She hadn’t left his side since he’d shown up at her doorstep shot and bleeding. He’d had every intention of telling her how he felt that night, but now his nerve was waning and he was just flat out afraid she was going to run.
She ran the water, taking his left arm out of the sling and putting a clear water tight bandage over his wound and left him to soak. Wisha kept the door cracked in case he needed her and she hoped like hell he did. Bones had been shirtless at home since his injury, stating that putting on a shirt was a pain in the ass. So when he got cold he would just ask her to put his button down flannel shirt around his shoulders. Wisha had been drooling. The man was built like a Greek God. Not only was his chest and stomach covered in ink, but not even the light dusting of hair could hide the ripples of muscle.
“Wisha!” Bones yelled from the bathroom, needing her. He had gotten in the tub okay, but didn’t think about asking for his shaving kit beforehand and getting back out was going to be more pain than he wanted to deal with.
“Hey, are you okay?” He was fine, just pissed off he was close to helpless. She stood in the doorway and his heart was hammering in his chest. That was his woman and she shouldbe his by now. This whole situation was fucked up.
“I need to shave, my face is itching like I’ve got fucking crabs.” She laughed so hard she spit out the Pepsi she had just sipped on. Only Bones would use that analogy. “I’m probably going to need some help. Bastards shot me in my dominant side, I’ve never tried to shave right handed.” Bones was a southpaw and while he could shoot with his right, he didn’t want to hack his face all to hell
attempting to shave.
Wisha was having one hell of a hard time at the angle she was at, so instead of making it painful on Bones she stood up and started stripping down.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Not that seeing her naked wasn’t on the top of his list, but sex was off limits until he healed and here she was in red bra and panties climbing in the tub with him.
“You want a shave and I can’t reach any other way.” She told him as she straddled his legs. Bones had instant wood. He closed his eyes so she could finish and he could try to will his cock down. It wasn’t working, with every touch he just throbbed more and more and masturbation was out of the question. He was a lefty and knew from a previous injury it wouldn’t work right handed.
When she finished his face, leaving his soul patch intact, she had him lean up just a little and washed his hair. Between her shaving his face and now washing his hair, nothing had ever been so sensual. Bones right arm found its way around her waist and Wisha scooted up closer to where he desperately wanted her to be. She wasn’t sitting on his cock, but she was damn close. He could feel the heat of her body.
Before long they were kissing and his good hand was touching her breasts, pinching the hardened nipples and she was moaning against his mouth. Wishas hand found Bones rock hard cock and started a slow slide. One that caused him to hiss, a hiss that said he loved her touch.
Bones wasn’t huge but he was overly thick and she just knew how good he was going to feel buried deep inside her. Wisha had heard Doolittle say no sex until the sutures came out but that didn’t mean she couldn’t give him an orgasm, make him come in her hand so she could feel him trembling.
“Stop,” he choked out. Wisha could see in his eyes this wasn’t how the first time was supposed to be, but she wanted him like this.
“Let me, please.” Bones didn’t say anything, just leaned back and allowed her to stroke his cock. Nothing had ever felt like this and he knew it would be mere minutes before he exploded, but it felt so fucking incredible he couldn’t refuse her.
Wisha watched his face, how he was biting his lower lip, how his closed eye lids would crinkle up. Bones made the most delicious sounds she had ever heard. Wisha couldn’t decide which she liked the best; the moans, the whimpering or the hissing. Every one of them was thrilling. Bones reached his breaking point, her soft hands had him shooting his seed into the tub water and him grunting out words.
“Oh god, fuck Angel! Yes!” His eyes were still closed as she continued the slow slide, milking every drop he had to give her. When he finally stopped shaking Wisha leaned forward and kissed his forehead, letting him silently know how much she loved him.
“I love you Angel,” he told her, his eyes open and staring at her. “I have from day one and I promise I’ll do my fucking damnedest to keep you safe. I meant what I said, you’re mine Angel and I’m yours if you’ll have me.”
Clubhouse Saturday Night
Saturday rolled around and Detective Jace Morrison was heading to the Devil’s Clubhouse. Bones had extended the invite and with everything going on in his department Jace knew he needed them. Five dirty cops wasn’t going to be an easy task to take down on his own. He had no clue just how far up the chain of command the corruption went, he had no intention of dying in the attempt of busting them, so the Devil’s were his only option.
Jace figured if he was going to the clubhouse he might want to blend in a bit. Old jeans, his riding boots and his leather jacket would do fine considering he was pulling out his bike for the trip. He had an old Bobber in the garage waiting for a night like this. Even early December the nights were relatively decent and he loved that old bike. With his night riding glasses on, he headed out t
o the northern outskirts of town where Smoke and the Devil’s kept shop.
Smoke had the bonfire going, sitting with his brothers and holding an informal Church. He needed to work out a few things but the confines of his Temple room was more than he needed at the moment so he sat in his favorite
Adirondack chair and chain smoked as he layed out what was what.
“We’ re expecting the cop that Bones talked to tonight, he’s gonna have to get his hands dirty. Shit is high in that department, and being connected to Jefé just fucking tops it. Why can’t we find this bastard and put one between his eyes!” They all knew Smoke had no love loss for Jefé. Over the years he had tried to kill Smoke more times than anyone wanted to think about. The debacle in Alamogordo was the biggest attempt, but shooting at Bones was the latest and each brother knew just how pissed the President was.
The sound of an unidentified hog coming down the gravel had each one on his feet, guns out and aimed in the direction of the intruder. Nobody fired, Smoke said hold, so that meant no bullets left the chamber. Once they determined who it was, that would make the
difference. Bones noticed the rider first.
“It‘s Morrison, don’t shoot him you assholes.” He chuckled as he saw the look on the Detective’s face.
Jace Morrison looked like he needed a fresh change of underwear. The Bobber came to a halt next to the rest of the bikes.
“Thought you said I was safe here?” Referencing the two dozen guns aimed at him as he dismounted his bike.
“Nice ride, haven’t seen one of these in ages.” Smokes said as he wandered up to introduce himself. Smoke was a sucker for anything classic, and Jace had just rode up on a Bobber. He had been looking for one like this for years. “Wanna sell it? I’d give you one helluva good price.”
Jace Morrison had no intentions of selling his old Bobber, it had been a gift from his grandfather when he turned sixteen. That bike had been with him for nearly twenty years. Jace was just shy of his thirty-sixth birthday and he wasn’t certain he would make that with the amount of firepower aimed his way.