Vipers Rule

by Stephanie Tyler

  “You don’t know me well enough to know what I am to you,” he managed, his voice sounding like gravel.

  “You haven’t changed. I know that. I knew it the second you stopped on the road and helped me fix the flat. And then with the car . . . the bomb . . .”

  “Just because I helped you . . .”

  “You saved me—then and now. And I’m not just talking about physically. You opened my eyes. The first time, it scared me, and I talked myself into believing the opposite of what I knew in my heart. I told myself you were the kind of guy I had to stay away from. I know the kind of boy you were and the kind of man you are. If I could only be so lucky to be a part of your life.” She moved forward and cupped his cheek with her palm. “No matter what happens, this would be my loss, or my gain. And I have no problems fighting for that. I want—”

  “I want to keep you safe,” he cut in. Because that was the truth, and the best he could manage for right now. It would be easy to do what he wanted to do—pick her up, slowly strip off her clothes and kiss every inch of her under the moonlight. He knew that would steam through his windows like finely mapped patterns of hope and pain.

  “Go upstairs. And lock the damned door behind you.”

  She looked startled when his words came out slightly growled. Then she flushed again. “I’ll lock it. But I wouldn’t mind if you broke it down.”

  Chapter 12

  Preacher had left Tals to deal with his own shit. He’d stomped over to the tattoo shop and stood by the door like an angry bouncer, growling at any guy who got too close to Holly.

  Finally, Holly cried uncle by announcing closing time. It was almost two in the morning, and tonight she was limping . . . and unable to hide it.

  He ordered Gigi to close up and called Rally over to wait for her. Then he picked Holly up and carried her back to the clubhouse, up the stairs and into her room. It was oddly quiet there, which meant everyone was out. Except for Maddie, he supposed, but he wasn’t thinking about that now. Instead he was focused on how good Holly smelled, the way she leaned her head against his shoulder without protest.

  The way her blond hair brushed his cheek when he bent down to place her on the bench at the end of her bed. He knelt as she watched, helped her take off her boots, then eased down her jeans, sliding them gently off her calves. It was an act easily misconstrued, and he might’ve followed through on what that seemed to promise . . . until he got to her right thigh and she winced when he tugged at the jeans.

  “Shit,” he muttered. “Have to take care of yourself.”

  “Trying to,” she whispered. His hands covered her thigh, massaging it the way the physical therapist had taught him—because one of them needed to take advantage of the PT sessions. After a long massage and stretching, he got up to grab her more medicine. She took it, murmured a soft “Thanks.”

  He turned away to put the glass down, asked, “Better?” over his shoulder.

  “Yes.” She stood too fast and almost fell back into her chair. Would have, if Preacher hadn’t caught her around the waist and pulled her to him. This time he didn’t back away the way he should’ve. The way she’d expect him to, because no one grabbed at Holly, or crowded her . . . or kissed her.

  But that’s exactly what he did. He’d been thinking about it, jerking off to it, fucking other women and pretending they were Holly, but now she was pressed against him—the real thing—and fuck, her lips were soft. Perfect. She let him kiss her . . . and then she was kissing him back, her hands twined in his hair, her tongue sliding along his . . . teasing. Tempting. It would be easy—expected, even—to pick her up, bring her to his room and finish this, once and for all. Holly knew the way MCs worked, and theirs was better to women than most. She knew that she owed Preacher, that most methods of collection in the MC world were primitive at best. She would let him in. Not hold grudges. She’d enjoy it—he’d make sure of that—but he wanted more than acceptance and enjoyment. He wanted her. All of her, and maybe that would never happen, but fuck it all, he refused to compromise.

  He pulled away, sat her back down. She looked surprised and a little angry. That showed even more in her tone when she said, “I didn’t expect you to be a tease, Preacher.”

  “What did you expect, Holly? For me to treat you the way Mickey did?”

  “Don’t you dare talk about my husband like that.”

  “He’s gone. I’m just asking if I should do what he did—should I pass you around as I see fit? I know why you’d want that, because that would make it easy for you to dismiss me. And I won’t fucking be dismissed.” She blinked at his words, but for once she didn’t have a smart-ass answer for him. “It’s your move, Holly. I’m sure you won’t take me up on it, and that’s okay. Because I don’t want you to if you’re not all in this. And I will fucking know the difference.”

  He walked away, not giving her a chance to get herself together to spout off at him. He wasn’t in the mood to hear it, and embarrassing her was definitely the way to get a rejection from her . . . and it was the only way for him to keep his self-respect—to ensure hers.

  His mood was beyond foul, and hearing rumblings of a fight with a local gang lying in wait outside Wally’s Bar didn’t help anything.

  He went to the bar, and hearing the bragging of a new probie was the final straw. He threw a chair against the wall, shattering it into a million wooden pieces, along with any last bit of fun they’d all been having.

  The music stopped. The crowd stilled. At least they still had that small amount of respect, but it was apparent he needed to pull the reins in, and hard. It was easy to get complacent when the immediate crisis, like the fight between Cage and the Heathens, was over and done with. But that was always the time when trouble struck. And with the impending Maddie disaster . . . he was old enough to know that was going to be a disaster.

  “Closing time,” he announced decisively, and Calla glanced at him, then moved to raise the lights, the way she normally would during last call. She stood by the switches, and Cage moved next to her, both waiting for Preacher’s next move. “Men, get your women home. Meeting in the clubhouse in the next hour. If you’re not sober, I don’t want to fucking see you. Cage, grab Rally and come outside with me to deal with this gang shit.”

  With a nod to Cage, he left to go outside. Because it didn’t matter how many of these asshole hoods were out there—although a quick count showed six—Vipers had the stronger rep than these upstarts. Now it was time to prove it.

  Chapter 13

  Tals sat alone in the main room of the clubhouse, in the dark, looking at the flickering TV screen. It was on mute.

  So was he.

  Tenn might’ve left with Calla, or he might be just next door at the tattoo shop. Maddie had gone upstairs, and he hadn’t heard anything from her for a couple of hours. He couldn’t stop his mind from reliving that night, from finding her pinned under Earl, to wanting to break Earl’s fucking neck, to making love to Maddie with the promise of a brand-new year. A new start.

  He’d resisted the urge to do more than knock Earl out, mainly so he could get Maddie away from him and comfort her. For the next forty-eight hours, he and Maddie holed up together as if the rest of the world didn’t exist.

  And then Maddie told him that she couldn’t stay in Skulls Creek, and he’d told her there was no way he could leave. There’d been more said, of course, but in the end things were pretty certain. He’d taken her home and then he’d gone to find Earl. Because whether or not he and Maddie were going to be together, the bastard needed to be taught a lesson.

  Earl thought Tals’s anger was based on wanting Maddie for himself. Tals didn’t bother arguing, because it would provide a good cover story for Maddie, who’d made him promise to never tell anyone what he’d come across. He’d beaten the shit out of Earl and several members of the football team who’d been with Earl as well. Still angry, he’d found solace at one of the Vipers bars and drunk himself into a stupor.

  It was all over, he’d
thought. But he’d been proven very wrong, since it’d all gone to hell the next day when the police had shown up to arrest him. He’d called Preacher from the station this time to come get him—to post his bail. It had taken seventy-two hours, and he’d been kept in jail, not taken away. That had to be because of Vipers, but Tals never asked and Preacher never offered.

  All Tals knew was that this time the trouble was big, and being associated with Vipers was a strike against him. He’d learned a lot from the experience, especially that patience and stealth were traits he’d needed to acquire.

  He’d been seventeen, and he’d refused to speak to the police. A Vipers lawyer informed him that Earl and the other players had come forward to press charges . . . and that Maddie herself had agreed with Earl’s statement that Tals had beaten Earl up because he’d wanted her for himself. No mention of Earl’s attempted rape or the fact that she’d spent two nights with Tals.

  He’d been relieved and angered at that, but the anger was mainly at himself for getting in too deep. Tenn had warned him and Tals had refused to listen. He’d believed in Maddie.

  In between getting out on bail and the investigation, something happened to make them all recant, and Tals assumed that Vipers—Preacher—had something to do with that. Again, Tals never asked, but the main thing was that he’d been innocent and Vipers had known that. Believed him.

  When Preacher had finally been allowed to take him home, Tals had been wrung out. He’d let Preacher lead him out with a hand on the back of his neck, guide him into the truck. It was only once they’d pulled out that Preacher murmured, “Tenn’s worried sick.”

  Tals had hung his head. “Fuck, Preach. I didn’t . . .”

  “What the fuck did you do?” Preacher demanded when Tals just stopped his explanation. “No, forget it. I know what you did.”

  “No, you don’t. You have no fucking idea what I did,” Tals had spat, suddenly tired of all the bullshit he’d dealt with over the past forty-eight hours. And even though he’d expected Maddie’s betrayal, it still stung like a motherfucker. He’d tried to get out of the truck, even though they were moving at a good speed. Preacher reached out and grabbed him by the collar.

  It was easy to forget how strong Preacher really was, since he could be so gentle. Had been to two runaway boys who’d shown up at Vipers’ first charter clubhouse and asked for a place to stay.

  “Then fucking tell me,” Preacher had ground out. “And stop trying to kill us both.”

  Tals had taken a deep breath and spilled the story. About Maddie. About Earl pressing against her, clawing at her clothes. Hitting her.

  How Tals had gotten there just in time.

  But even then he’d stopped, keeping Maddie’s privacy.

  Without thinking, he now grabbed the thing closest to him—a beer bottle—and threw it against the wall, where it gave a satisfying crash of glass and liquid . . . right before some of the guys came pouring into the clubhouse, but quietly subdued, all of them going to their separate quarters.

  Meeting in an hour, Cage had texted at some point, Tals noted when he checked his phone now, and whatever the fuck had happened tonight, Preacher was no doubt pissed.

  Tals had been brooding and pretending to watch TV, and when Preacher strolled in, Tals swore he saw smoke coming out of the president’s ears. He sat and waited for the explosion.

  Preacher noticed the broken-glass mess on the wall and floor, but didn’t say anything about it. “I called a meeting. Sober assholes only.”

  “Do I get to know the agenda, or is it a surprise?” Tals asked, comfortable with his level of sarcasm. He’d rather Preacher blow off steam with him before the meeting. He and Cage were two of the few who’d seen Preacher’s temper full force . . . and it wasn’t something he wanted to see unleashed on their own, unless completely warranted.

  Preacher’s eyes flashed. “Don’t fuck with me, Tals. You brought this shit here. All I do is clean up your fucking messes, and that’s not what Vipers is for.”

  “Funny, but I thought that was the point. Family helping family, right?”

  And that was Tenn’s voice, booming across the room. Fuck.

  Preacher’s head snapped in that direction. Tals stood as his brother strode across the room. Preacher approached from the left, Tenn from the right, leaving Tals squarely in the middle. As fucking usual. He’d done it for Cage and Preacher at various other times, and he was sick of it. “Fight your own damned selves,” he told them now, and stepped away.

  “Fuck that. You don’t get to bring trouble and then walk away,” Preacher told him.

  “Then I’ll take my fucking trouble and go,” Tals told him, stepping up and walking over the coffee table rather than trying to walk through Preacher and Tenn and the pathways they blocked.

  “That’s not your decision to make,” Preacher reminded him.

  “Maybe it should be.”

  “Not your choice to make, especially not now.” Preacher didn’t have to threaten—it was simple MC fact, and that’s what Tals had signed up for all those years ago.

  This was why Tenn refused. It was the one time they’d parted ways in a life decision. Until that moment Tals had never regretted it.

  But he couldn’t turn to Tenn now. At this point Tenn would be the first to tell him that he needed Vipers’ protection now. Because whatever Maddie was involved in, Tals was now smack in the middle. And confused as hell.

  “I know you think she’s using me.” He turned his attention to Tenn now.

  “All I know is that you rescued her, got her sober and she screwed you over,” Tenn said.

  “That’s not all that happened, goddammit,” Tals bit out, then wished he hadn’t. Because now they were all staring at him.

  “You . . .” Preacher paused.

  “You slept with her?” Cage finished.

  “Why didn’t we know that?” Tenn demanded.

  “I didn’t know I needed to send a memo on my love life.” Tals was trapped, and he waited for one of them to yell at him or call him an idiot.

  But Tenn muttered, “It all makes sense.”

  “Really? Care to explain it to me?” Tals asked, his tone heavily laced with sarcasm.

  “It was sex, Tals. Maybe it felt like more, but—”

  “But what, Tenn?” There was a challenge in his voice that Tenn took head-on.

  “I don’t know what the fuck to think.” Tenn’s eyes blazed. “Except that you usually don’t get caught up like this.”

  “I always help,” he challenged.

  Tenn’s voice softened. “You do, yes. But you don’t usually help people who fucked you over so thoroughly.”

  Fuck, Tenn was right. But Tals was right too. “She didn’t mean to . . . Fuck, she was seventeen. Scared. You have to remember what that’s like.”

  “I do,” Tenn said through gritted teeth.

  “Then think about how much worse it would’ve been for a girl. We were used to violence. She wasn’t. She doesn’t deserve it. Dammit, no one does.” He was done with this conversation, and he was done with staying away from his feelings for Maddie and from Maddie herself.

  He got to the end of the hall. Second floor. He tried the door, found it locked, the way he’d asked. He had a key somewhere, and he could easily pick the lock too. But he’d made her a promise, and he didn’t break those without a damned good reason.

  “Maddie, I’m coming in.” His voice rumbled, and he heard the lust rumble through his own voice. “Move away from the door.”

  He kicked it open. Thankfully, it still closed behind him, because the plans he had definitely required privacy.

  Chapter 14

  Maddie’s body flooded with need as the door slapped the jamb uselessly behind it. Tals didn’t seem to notice or care—his focus was solely on her, even as he slowed his stride and began to strip. First he shrugged his cut off and placed it on a chair.

  He was nowhere near as careful with the rest of his clothes. His T-shirt flew across the room as
she watched his chest, mesmerized by how broad, tattooed, utterly capable it was. She wanted to trace her fingers into the dips of the six-pack of his abs. His arms were muscled—dusted with light hair, strong, ready to hold her down, pin her . . .

  A cross between a cry and a gasp escaped her throat as he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, and it was obvious he wasn’t wearing anything underneath. His thick cock immediately took center stage, and he gave her a lazy smile as she sank into the other chair.

  In return he put a booted foot on the seat next to her and waited.

  She was so close to his open zipper her fingers shook. She reached up to touch his abs, but he caught her wrists.

  “Boots,” he said, and the inherent command in his tone, the order, made her wetter than she’d been. Her fingers went to the laces of the heavy steel-toed motorcycle boots. and she clumsily unlaced the first. When he eased it off, he let it drop with a thud before she did the second one.

  He hooked his fingers into his belt loops then and tugged his jeans down his hips maddeningly slowly.

  Her breath caught as he stood naked in front of her, and all she wanted to do was his bidding. Right now she’d do anything he asked, and oh, how she wanted him to ask.

  She leaned forward again, her fingertips trailing along his abs, and a slight shiver from Tals was her reward. She got a groan when her finger trailed a drop of precome from his cock before bringing her tongue down to taste him.

  His hand slid along the back of her neck as she took him into her mouth, licking and teasing, growing bolder as his body began to vibrate. Her fingernails dug into a firm ass cheek, keeping him close. His hand twisted in her hair, a reminder that, no matter how out of control he appeared to get, he was still in control—of himself and of her.