Hostile Saint (Steel Stallions MC Book 1)

by India R. Adams

  “Not in the slightest,” chimed an annoyed Captain. “Brat’s been locking his door at night so I can’t sneak in and strangle her in her sleep. I bet she farts unicorn dust or some shit.”

  All three of us burst into a laughing fit.

  Justice didn’t. She complained, “I’m serious. She doesn’t even walk right. She fucking skips. Like a little pain-in-the-ass fairy on a mission to spread joy.” Hurl! “Gag me.”

  We laughed even harder.

  After we parked in the woods on the right side of Serenity Institute, a wet Vice got in the backseat with me. Eyeing his bag of food, he took off a clear plastic hooded poncho. “I’m gonna fuck that bag up. Did you remember my diet Coke?”

  Dagger rolled his eye. “There’s ten pounds of grease in that bag, but your dumbass is worried about some sugar?”

  Vice didn’t answer VP, but he acknowledged my stare that was hungry for intel, not food. No longer joking around, he said, “As the sun went down, she waited by the window.” When I continued to glare, he nodded. “Yeah, kept leaning into it. Lookin’ tired.”

  After the sun went down, Lynx wouldn’t permit me to climb the wall until a certain amount of time went by. He said chances for witnesses needed to be as low as possible since we didn’t know how Doc was going to react after I somewhat threatened him.

  Frustrated, I complained, “He drugged her.”

  Vice nodded. “Looks like it, but he hasn’t replaced the bars yet. Light is still on but no more movement.”

  Sure to have a vanilla shake in a plastic bag, I grabbed the door handle. “Thank you for watching over her. I appreciate it.” To them all, I said, “If Doc is setting me up, thank you for all you’ve done. Don’t get involved.”

  Two men grumbled from the front seats, but I ignored them. They had already gone above and beyond. I didn’t want them breaking rules for me, but before I could open the door, Vice confessed, “I, uh, may have been, uh, having the nighttime orderly drugged, for a while now.”

  Blink. Blink…

  I gazed at the front seats of the car housing two laughing bikers. Dagger tried to talk, but it sounded more like wheezing. “Tell ‘em, Enforcer, how you took your job to a whole new level.” By this point, Lynx was having laughing convulsions in his seat. His arms were curled to his chest and his eyes could no longer open.

  Kind of worried about the extent Vice would go, I asked, “What did you do?”

  He shrugged. “What had to get done.”

  The car shook as the convulsions worsened. Lynx practically cried out, “Get ‘er done!”

  Simply unable to breathe due to laughing hysterics, Dagger was now smacking the dashboard. This poor rental would never be the same.

  “Vice,” I gawked, “who’d you do?”

  Digging in his dinner bag, he casually said, “I was at a diner a bit back and was shocked to see the Serenity Institute orderly come in. Apparently, that’s where he coffees up before his all-night shift.”

  I cringed. “You had sex with the orderly?”

  “What?” yelled Vice as the other two bikers absolutely lost their shit. “No! I did the waitress!”

  I sagged against the back of my seat. “You had me worried, and with a debt I wasn’t sure how to repay.”

  In front of me, Dagger’s seat literally creaked as he jerked his body backward, over and over, as if begging his body to breathe through all his out-of-control laughing.

  Lynx laugh-cried to the ceiling. “It hurts! I can’t take anymore!”

  On her nightstand, her open journal read:

  Fears turn into tears

  Goodbyes into memories

  Regret into sorrow

  Hope for tomorrow

  Inside Lacey’s room, I stood there, dripping wet, watching her sleep as I wondered how long she had suffered at the hands of Satan worshipers. With all I had learned that day, reading her written words haunted me.

  Fears turn into tears

  Goodbyes into memories

  Pain burst throughout my whole body, picturing her locked in that cage without me. Oh God, why didn’t you send me back there to hold her? I dropped to my knees next to her bed and whispered, “I’m so sorry I once again failed you.”

  Was there a part of me that had been jealous of the teenage boys at the drive-thru? Yeah, because they were clueless to such feelings of regret. Even though we were the same age, chances were they’d never had to look at an angel, knowing she had been so brutally violated.

  And having it be their fault.

  I whispered again, “I’m so sorry,” imagining her child-body on one of those blankets. Her drugged and being—

  On the brink of despair, I begged for God to help me.

  Elle’s words floated through my heart. You can make life any flavor you want.

  The only flavor I wanted was Lacey.

  If that meant I had to walk, run, or fight through Hell before having my perfect flavor, then I would be a willing participant in life. I was willing to surrender anything. I was willing to never give up and keep trying for the safety of the prettiest girl in the whole world.

  I thought of Lynx, claiming I was a Life Warrior. Maybe he was right. Maybe I was gifted enough to see the cost was worth the prize. No matter how many times I would have to pay.

  Gently brushing hair from Lacey’s forehead, I thought about how, in high school, she was ignored by rich kids like the ones from tonight. Those boys wanted perfection in appearance. I wanted perfection in the heart. Lacey’s scars—her ‘imperfections’—made her perfect to me.

  Tucked under a blanket, her body seized for a few seconds before her tears began. She made struggling noises in her nightmare. That fucking doctor was drugging her, trapping her with the enemy because she wasn’t able to wake and see she was now safe.

  Without hesitation, I whispered, “I’m with you. I’m here. They won’t hurt you anymore.”

  Against her pillow, her brows pursed.

  Even though her eyes were closed, I nodded. “I’m here, Pretty Girl.”

  My heart sighed when her hand grabbed mine. “Tate,” she whispered in fear, “they’re here. Hide.”

  I laid my cheek to hers. “No. Only me. Let your mind have them fade away. They’re not here. Just see me.”

  Her body released some tension as she whispered, “Just you.”

  Affectionately, I rubbed my cheek to hers. “Just me.”

  Her sudden gasp brushed my cheek.

  Slowly, I lifted my head to see her eyes open.

  “Tate.”

  “You’re awake.”

  Her sweet eyes creased as she smiled. “For you.” She spoke the words from her poem. “Hope for tomorrow.”

  She had been writing of me.

  Our connection grew…

  I asked, “And, ‘regret into sorrow’?”

  “Regret,” she licked her beautiful lips, “for not getting another kiss.”

  I almost begged, Yes, please take one more of those, but instead, my voice cracked to say, “I brought you a shake.”

  Yes, I was speaking of a dessert, but by the way she stared at me, I knew she understood what I was saying: I brought you my heart, my soul, my spirit, my hopes, which will always and forever be yours.

  I knew this because she breathed, “evermore,” as she lifted her head from the pillow and kissed me.

  How a kiss could make me ache and beg for more, all at the same time, was such a compliment to her ability to own me. My eyes slid shut when her mouth opened for more. A silky tongue reached for a swipe.

  So. Fucking. Hungry to devour her sweetness, my hands fisted her blankets and mattress.

  A little moan echoed from her mouth to mine as I let her taste me.

  Other than my chest panting, I held still while she deepened our kiss and moved to get closer to me. Sitting up, she slipped a leg under each of my tense arms, still gripping the bed. Now taller than me, soft inner thighs rested at my sides. Graceful fingers tangled in my hair, pulling my mouth imp
ossibly closer to hers.

  She giggled after her bed scooted closer to me. “Tate, you just moved my bed.”

  My eyes were still closed and my mouth searching. “Did I?”

  Her lips joined mine again before saying, “Would your hands prefer to touch me than the mattress?”

  I kissed under her chin, her neck, the side of her mouth. “I don’t trust them.”

  Giggle. Her lips pressed to mine. “I trust them.” Kiss. “I hope they are the only ones to ever touch me again.”

  My fists loosened…

  My hands lifted…

  They touched her back…

  I held my Pretty Girl…

  The rest of the world dissolved as she wholly possessed me.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Being Understood

  On the way back from the institute, I had fallen asleep until I heard, “No fucking way.” I opened my eyes to see we were in the neighborhood of the rental house. Lynx was practically leaning over the steering wheel, pointing to something or someone as we got closer. “No fucking way!”

  In the front yard of the house were seven dragons I had never seen before. In the driveway were all the drivers, smoking cigarettes and joints as if the surrounding houses didn’t even exist or matter.

  Dagger exhaled. “That ugly bastard is quite the sight for this tired man.”

  Next to me, Vice had his window down, howling with the biggest smile.

  Call of the wild? I guess that’s what you could call it because the leathered men in the driveway faced the car and started laughing and howling to the night sky.

  Not bothering to open the garage door, Lynx barely had the car in park before exiting with a huge smile on his face. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  A tattooed man the size of Dagger gave him an aggressive man hug. “Had a drop-off in New Mexico, but stopped by Austin first to,” he released Lynx and peered over his impressive shoulder, “make a ‘pick-up’.” Disapprovingly, he glared at a guy who looked more my age.

  This guy had a dragon but wore normal street clothes. As I got out of the car, I noticed he had no cut nor a slew of tattoos that I could see.

  When he looked away from the two men acknowledging him, the one who had hugged Lynx growled, “You better get your el ass-o the fuck over here.” The man smirked at Lynx. “He’s still a little butt-hurt over yet another rejection from you know who.”

  With very little sympathy, Lynx chuckled, “Art, man-up and stop fucking poutin’.” Then he teased the other man, “Diesel, maybe your sister shouldn’t have named him Artist. I think it has made him a pansy.”

  Diesel rolled his eyes. “I told her the name was gay, but she told me that I wasn’t ‘politically’ correct or some shit like that.”

  Lynx arched back due to a burst of laughter. “And I bet your pansy ass didn’t argue with her.”

  “Fuuuuck no. That little girl got teeth and jaws like a goddamn Pitbull.” He opened his arms and grabbed onto Dagger. “Mother. Fucker. Missed your half-blind ass.”

  Now that they were embracing, there was no mistaking their likeness. This man was Dagger’s brother. This was the President of the Redemption Ryders.

  Soon, they broke apart and more hugs commenced between the two clubs.

  Gazing about, taking in all the interaction of hugs and words of missing each other, I witnessed a true brotherhood between all the bikers. Even though they were from different clubs, the unity was undeniable. One set had a horse on the back of their vests, and the others had a howling wolf. I was still confused about the connection between them but had run out of time to ponder. My shoulder was suddenly grasped before I was yanked away from the car I was standing by.

  Lynx jostled me, standing me slightly in front of him, having me face the Redemption’s Prez. “This is my boy, Saint.”

  If I wasn’t already accustomed to the intimidating appearance of some of these men, Diesel would have had me wanting more space between us. His piercing deep-set blue eyes were scanning me like a hawk searching his opponent as he lifted his chin. “Saint. I’m Diesel.”

  Gulp. I reached out my hand. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

  Shaking my hand, he studied. “The wolf in training.”

  “No disrespect, sir, but I prefer to be a Stallion.”

  Silence…

  Then… laughter erupted!

  Vice, still laughing, came to us with his arm around the neck of some wild looking man with red hair named Scorch. He was introduced as Redemption Ryder’s Enforcer. The two Enforcers were clearly two scary peas in a very large pod.

  Vice told Lynx, “Prez, let’s roll over to the local clubhouse. They’re having a party and I could use—”

  “Didn’t you just tap that waitress?” Lynx stood there with a daring smirk.

  ‘Scorch’ instantly started wrestling his match. “Oh, I see how it is!”

  As surrounding men casually moved out of the way for the bulls to properly tussle, Diesel kept chuckling while watching them. “Overgrown fucking kids.” He asked Lynx, “How about it? Club bound?”

  Not in a convincing, nonchalant manner, Lynx shook his head. “Nah, the kid was sleeping on the way home. Gotta get him to bed.”

  As if Lynx had just spoken in a foreign language, Diesel blinked. “The fuck?” Then he stared at my VP. “Can you explain the el word-oes he just spewed?”

  Arms crossed, Dagger tapped his chin. “How do I explain this? Hmmm… My Prez is suffering from a rare—and very confusing—condition called ‘I’ve misplaced my balls and have grown tits’.”

  “Ah, shit,” grumbled his blood brother—Diesel. “I’ve heard of this disease. I’ve been told, if not treated, it develops into ‘I once was a badass but now need tampons’.”

  As if practically hopeless, Dagger shrugged. “Beware, I’ve heard it’s contagious.”

  I smiled as most of the other bikers suddenly ran to their dragons.

  Laughing, Lynx yelled at them, “Fine! Go get your dicks wet! But I’m not cooking any of you breakfast in the morning.”

  Their reply?

  Engines roared to life, rattling neighboring windows.

  As the bikes tore down the street, I said, “I guess it’s just two Prezes, a VP, and a Saint.”

  “Fuck it.” The new Prez in my life threw his heavy arm over my shoulders and walked us toward the garage. “I ain’t el scared-o. I drink too much Tequila to catch shit.”

  “Sell Saint’s houses out from underneath the bastards,” eagerly recommended Diesel as he took a bite of our delivered pizza. I couldn’t help but notice a tattoo on his right hand that read Will find you. Observing the powerful man, I knew I’d put my money, once I had some, on him finding who he was looking for.

  The Redemption Ryder’s Prez had made it sound like hopping over from New Mexico was no big deal, even though it was hours out of their way to head back home to Georgia. Starting to realize how many hours were spent on their dragons, it was becoming easier to understand why these guys did a lot of standing. As if there were no couches or dining room chairs to rest in, the three bikers stood in the kitchen, eating pizza without plates, and had empty shot glasses in front of them on the kitchen counter.

  I was on the barstool, which was safest, considering I had already downed three horrid shots of Tequila and was now basically drunk. I didn’t deny the shots because the howls they let out each time I threw one back made me smile every time.

  Lynx refilled their empties while saying, “I didn’t want to draw attention until I knew what I was up against.” He grumbled, “Which I’m still trying to figure out.”

  Diesel lifted his shot glass. “Sounds like you need to ride to Kansas and do some investigating.” He threw his head back to down his Tequila.

  Lynx hissed, shaking his head. “That’s not safe for Pup right now.” He drank his shot, then took another bite of pizza.

  The Prez of the Ryders wiped his mouth with the back of his hand while suspiciously observing Lynx. “When
exactly will it be safe for him?”

  I was surprised to notice Dagger not saying a word. He just ate pizza and accepted shots quietly. Maybe it was a Prez-to-Prez conversation, but my gut suspected it was more of an intervention. I was missing a very strong detail about my Stallion Prez. And it was about to be revealed…

  Lynx wouldn’t meet Diesel in the eyes but said, “After, uh, more intel is uncovered.”

  “Look at me.”

  Lynx refused, refilling shot glasses.

  “Brother,” said Diesel, “there was nothing you could have done.”

  Lynx kept shaking his head, still refusing to look at the other Prez in the kitchen.

  To my VP, I head-gestured, silently asking if I should leave the room. With appreciation in his eye, he hand-gestured for me to stay put. So, I did, and kept eating.

  Diesel stepped closer to Lynx. “That shit was meant to be—”

  Lynx suddenly sneered, “It sure was. I lost my son because of what happened to yours.”

  Holy shit.

  Diesel’s mouth fell open, empathy registering on his face. “Not even fucking close, Lynx. God don’t work like that.”

  Grabbing a pack of cigarettes, he turned away. “How do you know? You don’t even believe in God.”

  Diesel warned, “I was angry when I said that. My parents had fallen out of the sky. Be fair, fucker. But God gave me Viola, and he gave me my boy back.”

  I wondered if any of this had to do with his Will Find You tattoo.

  Still facing the sliding door, Lynx’s shoulders caved. “Then I lost him for you.” He walked outside.

  Diesel, hot on his trail, shut the door behind them both so they could talk on the porch.

  Stunned, and very confused, I looked to Dagger.

  He closed a pizza box and refilled his glass. “You’re all good, Pup—” He chuckled when I slid my shot glass next to his for more.

  Holding his shot up for mine, he waited. As I clicked mine to his, he told me, “I just let you hear some real personal shit, feel me?”

  I nodded. “Won’t repeat nothing.”

  “‘Preciate it.” He downed his drink.