by Olivia Rigal
Hot Mess
An Iron Tornadoes MC Romance
Olivia Rigal
Contents
Foreword
Special offer
Special thanks to
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
Afterword
Special offer
About the Author
Also by Olivia Rigal
Foreword
Hot Mess
An Iron Tornadoes MC Romance
I slip my arms beneath her and pick her up, moving her up to the head of the bed properly. Being picked up so easily draws a breathy moan from her, and the moment I'm between her legs again, I can feel her radiant heat against me.
My name is Hatcher.
They call me Everest ‘cause I’m a mountain of man who wants it all.
I refuse to choose. Not between my bike, my club and my badge, and not between the women in my bed.
Why did this Hot Mess of a girl have to fall onto my laps?
Special offer
If you enjoy the Iron Tornadoes MC
would you care for a free ride with
the Category 5 Knights MC?
if so click here -> www.irontornadoes.com
Thank you to
Christa Wick
& Zirconia Publishing
who helped me start this Wild Ride.
Jacqueline Sweet
for the cover
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1
My old man knows it's his last Labor Day weekend. It could also be his last big bash as President of the Iron Tornadoes MC. Even if he's still around for Christmas, he'll be too far gone to wear his crown by then.
So Cracker went all out for his party. The crowd is huge. Looking around, I recognize members of the Iron Tornadoes chapters from other states that I haven't seen in ages.
“Ernest, you didn’t tell me it was gonna be such a big bash," my mother says, looking around. She hands me the helmet I forced her to wear to ride here.
I shrug. I should have guessed. The old lion is failing in body and in spirit, but he's not going down without a fight. Only a few month ago, he admitted he was losing it. That's when he started writing notes and making to-do lists, but soon enough forgot to look at them.
Fuck, losing one's mind sucks.
My mother squeezes my arm as we get closer to the main table where Cracker is holding court, one Sweet Butt on his knees. She's a pretty little thing who can't be more than a day over eighteen. Cracker almost pushes her away when he spots us. If not for Ice sitting next to him the kid would have fallen to the ground.
Cracker should know better. He can't be caught groping young chicks if he wants to move back in with his Old Lady. But then again, my mother knows he's a cheating bastard. She's told me she'll take care of him until the end. If he asks. No one could blame the woman if she decided to make him beg a little for this.
My mother has been in love with this heartless man whore for more than thirty years now. Despite everything he did to her, she never divorced him. So, yeah, it's no surprise to me that she'll take care of him until the end.
I sure hope she makes him grovel a bit.
And now Lisa's glaring at Ice because the Sweet Butt thinks it's okay to linger on his lap. Oh man, my brother's in so much trouble! Cracker notices and a naughty smile spreads on his face. It vanishes as Lisa gets up and walks away.
My father's always loved a good cat fight. I know he's disappointed Lisa won't play his game. It's a good thing too, 'cause Lisa must be double the weight of the tiny creature. She would have crushed her. Even if Lisa's not the violent type, it wouldn't have been a fair fight.
My money's on Cracker. He'll find another way to make trouble. He thinks creating drama makes for a livelier party. He'll want to start one nice fight; one that will be remembered after he's gone.
A few seconds before we get to the table, Mom gets cold feet and lets go of my arm. "Ernest, I'll catch up with you later," she says, turning toward a group of Old Ladies waving at her.
The club is a big family. The other women are still here for my mother as she's there for them. They don't hold a grudge against her for keeping her distance from the MC. Hey, for all I know, when their men aren't around, they see each other or talk on the phone much more than we imagine.
"Hey, bro!"
Ice gently but firmly pushes the Sweet Butt away and hugs me. "Your ma's looking good," he says.
"Yeah, she is." I smile proudly. My mother's awesome. She's raised Juliya and me by herself. In hindsight, I see that it's probably just as well. Cracker had no clue on how to behave as a father for longer than a few hours at a time. Of course, he'd jump into a fire to save Juliya. He adores her, and in his twisted ways, he also cares for Ice and me.
"Juliya okay?" he asks.
"Yeah, Ma spoke to her yesterday. She's got a good dorm room and she's fine."
He shakes his head and Cracker mumbles something about what a shame it is that she couldn't be here today. I bite my tongue. No use reminding him he was supposed to book her flight and forgot so she had to get an earlier flight out.
"She'll be back for Thanksgiving," I say.
He looks away without answering.
Cracker won't say a word, but I know he's wondering if he'll still be with us then.
Juliya's been wondering the same, and she almost decided to postpone her last year of college. But for once, we all agreed. This was not an option. Ma, Cracker, Ice, and I ganged up on her. She was going back no matter what. Even Prince - the Category Five Knight who has been getting too close for our taste - was onboard with her going away. That was a surprise to me. It made me wonder about the guy.
Anyway, I want her to finish college so she can have more choices in her life. Ma also wants her to graduate, and for once, she and Cracker are on the same page. They're worried about her falling hard for Prince. My mother doesn't have anything personal against Prince or the Category Five Knights for that matter. As far as she's concerned, her daughter should have nothing to do with anyone related to an MC, period.
And Cracker, well, he can't come to terms with the idea that his daughter is now old enough to have a sex life. Sooner rather than later, he's going to get a reality check. Unless the crab that's eating him finishes him first.
Before I get a chance to sit, I notice Brains and Earplugs coming our way. It's hard to remember that Brains is the same age as Cracker. These days he looks twenty years younger.
Brains could teach a thing or two to Cracker about looking the other way when a daughter gets of age to fool around.
Brains has three daughters with wife number one, the veterinary assistant. They're around my sister's age. Birdy, Kitty, and Bunny. Three hot little numbers. It's probably for the best she didn't give him a son, poor kid would have been Ducky or something just as impossible to live with!
Without bothering with any greeting, Brains says, "We need to talk A.S.A.P."
Ice's eyebrows shoot up in surprise while Cracker frowns.
"Drug runners again?" he asks
. When it comes to serious MC matters, his memory seems to kick in more readily.
Brains nods and Earplugs says, "I have one in the oven, but I think we need your special touch to make this little bird sing."
"Fine, let's do this now and get it over with," Cracker says and then looks at me. "How do you stand on this one, Officer Hatcher?"
Brains tries to get me off the hook. "He doesn't have to pick a side on this one Cracker. The police don't want that crap on our streets either."
My father shrugs. "At one point you're gonna have to choose, son."
I ignore his comment.
My choice was made a long time ago.
I choose not to.
I will not pick a side. I'm a cop and an Iron Tornado and that's the way it will be. That means I'll never be the prez, but I'm fine with it. My brother Ice is a fine leader. He'll do the job well.
As we walk toward the clubhouse, Earplugs tells the others about their citizen's arrest.
"It was so strange," he says. "We've been watching this house for a week. We've seen two people do a drop, but so far no one has come and picked up the delivery..."
I tune out Earplugs’s voice, he's a chatty guy. Instead of listening to him, I think of a few question I'd like to ask the guy they locked up. The new product on the streets of Point Lookout has already killed one kid and put two others in the hospital.
Down south, around Miami, they call it the Biker's Dream ‘cause when those who took it and lived to tell others, they claim riding under its influence is the greatest high ever.
It's decimated the population of the wild ride racers, but despite the high body count, the lethal nature of the stuff doesn't seem to register with them.
Brains is absolutely right. I'm not torn by any conflict of interest when it comes to drugs. I won't even bat an eye if things get a little rough.
Or so I think, until I get in the room ...
2
I don't rough up girls.
Well, I do. I mean every so often I get my kicks out of roughing up girls, but only when they are game for that sort of thing. I'm all about safe and consensual, and I'm pretty sure the bird Earplugs brought back didn't ask to be trussed up to a chair like that.
Cracker and Ice look at me as if giving me a green light to take the lead. Strangely, neither of them is too keen on slapping her around as they would have if it had been a guy.
I roll my eyes at them and walk to the tiny bathroom attached to the room to take a roll of toilet paper. Pulling a chair, I make myself comfortable sitting in front of the girl. She's putting up a brave front. Now is the time to figure out if her defiance is proof of incredible courage or utter stupidity.
She doesn't move when I push a few strands of matted hair from her face and clean her up with a few pieces of paper. She's been crying ugly tears and her eye makeup has run down her cheeks.
Incredibly blue eyes dive into mine. I barely have time to frown before she lowers her gaze.
Her instant submission hits me like a ton of bricks.
She looks like a mess, but a very hot mess.
The hottest mess I've ever seen.
There's something about her that moves me.
"That's much better." My tone is caring, almost the one of a parent, and she seems to relax a little. "We haven't been properly introduced."
I pause to give her a chance to tell me her name. She doesn't take it. I tilt my head and frown, but her eyes are still lowered. She takes a deep breath as if gathering her courage to speak but doesn't say a word.
"Well, my name is Everest," I tell her and the corner of her lip twitches as she looks up at me. My nickname is appropriate for the mountain of a man that I am. "Yeah, it's not my actual name, but it's the one I go by when I'm around here."
"What's your real name?" she asks. Her voice is melodious, tinted with has a light accent. I would say she's from up north. New York, probably.
"I will tell you if you give me yours," I answer almost sweetly.
She shakes her head and snaps back, "I will not, and you have no right to keep me here. I will..."
She stops mid-sentence as I pull a knife out of my pocket. Her eyes go wide and her jaw trembles as the blade snaps in front of her. Her gaze on the blade, she almost shrinks as she whispers, "I'm Kristal. Kristal Russel."
"Very nice to meet you, Kristal Russel." My tone is still civilized. "My real name is Ernest Hatcher."
With surprising courage, she looks away from the knife to glare at me and says, "Thank you, Mr. Hatcher. You will be the first one on my list when I file my suit for false arrest."
"You could try," I tell her as I move my knife in her direction. She pushes herself back against her chair until she realizes I'm not about to cut her, but the cord holding her prisoner in the chair. "Yes, you could try, but you wouldn't have a chance because I'm not the one who tied you up. On the contrary, I'm the one releasing you."
She wiggles to free her arms and rubs her wrists. It's all for show. Earplugs tied her up and did it really well. The traces of the cord are barely visible on her skin.
Kristal bends over cautiously and proceeds to untie her legs. While she does, I get a good glimpse of two tempting globes trapped in a black lace cage. Sure wouldn't mind freeing those two birds as well to test their weight with my own hands.
Right, but no. Now is not the time.
I fold my knife and put it away. My gestures are slow. I don't want to scare her. Well, no more than she already is. I pull my cuffs out of my back pocket and wait.
When she's done freeing her legs, she sits up and notices the shiny metal bracelets in my hand. She blinks. Her pupils dilate as her mouth opens and closes silently.
She's really cute when at a loss for words.
"Officer Hatcher is here for your arrest," Cracker growls at her. She looks in his direction and shudders when he adds, "He will bring you to the Point Lookout police station where you will be booked and then brought to the Main Detention Center."
Cracker says the word Main Detention Center as a devoted priest would say the ninth circle of hell.
"Don't expect any clemency from the judges." Ice's deep voice is sinister. He shakes his head sadly. I bite the inside of my cheek to repress a laugh.
"Right, this is an election year and to make sure they keep their offices, they're throwing the books at all drug offenders," Cracker explains.
Kristal’s eyes dart between Cracker and Ice who are standing a few steps behind me. She turns so pale, her freckles are the only spots of color on her face.
"Unless..." I say and she looks at me.
She waits for me to continue but I don't.
I wait for her to ask.
The silence grows heavy while her imagination runs wild. Her eyes search my face for an answer. What does she think I will demand from her to let her go? She shivers and straightens her shoulders to find out.
"Unless?"
Dread and hope collide in those two syllables.
"Unless you tell me whose drugs you were carrying," I say. "I want names and everything you know."
Relief and despair appear on her face. I'm guessing she is relieved that we're not going to force ourselves upon her. Yet, she's desperate, as well. Probably because she fears those she was doing the delivery for. The trick is to make her fear us more than she fears them.
"I can't," she whispers. Her entire body is shaking and her nails dig in her own flesh. It's not rage or frustration. It's absolute terror.
Her fear is such that I immediately change plans. Fear is not the answer, trust is.
An overwhelming urge to take her in my arms and comfort her washes over me. I fight it, but still, I reach out for her hands. I need to touch her. I trap her fingers between mine before they draw more blood from her arms.
"I will protect you," I whisper back as I lean toward her. My eyes lock with hers. Does she understand I mean it? I'm a man of my word. I will protect her.
This is what the Hatcher men do.
; We're protectors.
We may torment our women, but we keep them safe from harm. Except Kristal is not mine. I didn't even know she existed less than an hour ago.
An almost imperceptible nod and she closes her eyes. When she opens them again, she's fighting a fresh onslaught of tears.
"You don't understand," she says. "I had no idea what I was delivering." She shrugs and whispers. "I can't tell you. No, I can't. See, this isn't about me. Even if you could protect me, you couldn't possibly protect him."
3
I turn to look at Ice and Cracker. They are as clueless as I am about who she is talking about.
A father? A child? A lover?
That last possibility annoys me more than it should.
Fuck. This is unlike me. What is it about her?
"I think you need a bit more time to think this over," I tell her. "Like the night to sleep on it."
She gasps as she looks around the room. I haven't thought this through. This is not a good place for her to do the thinking she needs to do.
"We could keep her for one night in a privacy room at the Styx," Ice suggests. "We're closed on Mondays anyway."
My brother is a genius. His idea is perfect. The MC's club has many rooms and any one of them would be perfect for her. I'm already imagining her in one of our luxury suites under constant video monitoring.
"So you're not arresting me, sir?"
The sir does me in. My pants are way too tight. I promptly get up to hide the incredible effect she has on me.
"Not yet," I confirm. "But I'm still keeping you in custody."
"Don't you think..." I shake my head and stop Ice mid-sentence. I know where he's going. My brother is looking out for me. A police officer can't really do what I'm planning to do with that woman, but for some strange reason, I don't care. I'm not letting him or anyone else watch over her tonight.
With a movement of the head, I invite her to stand. She tries but falters. How long has she been sitting here? I bend over and help her to her feet. Her skin feels so soft under my fingers, I can't resist the urge to caress a bare shoulder before my hand lands on her arm. She winces. My grip on her arm isn't that tight. I look again but there's no bruise or scratch.