by Wilde, Kati
“I’ve got audio, too,” Blowback says. “Telling Paladin about a man you planted in the Eighty-Eight.”
“You fucker.” Creek’s jaw clenches as he stares across the table. “If I give you a head start, it has to be clean. If you’re still on site when we show up, I can’t do a goddamn thing for you.”
As long as Papa’s dead, I wouldn’t care. But I tell him, “We won’t be there.”
“Then give me the recording.” He slides out of the booth. “And get something out of that girl.”
* * *
Get something out of her. Then give her up to the feds.
Only one of those will happen. When I take out Papa, she won’t need protection.
But she needs it now.
The knots in my gut don’t ease up the entire ride back home. Which is real stupid, worrying so much. Those Escalades rolled in so easy because Papa was friends with the Iron Blood. But Papa’s men couldn’t just waltz into the Hellfire Riders’ clubhouse—or the cabins. And the Riders are there, looking out for her. Protecting her.
But I thought the same damn thing about my sister. And those fuckers still got to Anna.
I’m not getting to Cherry right away, either. After hearing about the Iron Blood, the prez calls an executive board meeting of the club’s officers. Everyone else on the board is already at the clubhouse by the time Blowback and I ride in. So I head straight up to the second level, because the faster we get this done, the faster I’m back with her.
And it needs to be done. This will all be about threat assessment and figuring out next steps. But walking into the conference room, instead of a dead serious group of bikers, I’m greeted with laughter and hoots of approval as Gunner shows off his new tattoos. One I’ve already seen in the picture Anna sent to me earlier—her name scrawled over his heart. But the one across his back is new: the Hellfire Riders emblem.
I’ve got one just like it. So that even without my kutte, I’m wearing my patch. But this asshole never tatted up his pretty, pretty skin before. His cult of a family considered marring their natural beauty sacrilegious or some shit. So it looks like he finally made a complete break away from them.
Gunner sees me, grins and calls out, “She said yes!”
I tell him the same thing I texted to her. “And it’s about damn time.”
“Yeah, it is.” He laughs and hauls his shirt back on. “So let’s get this shit over quick, because this is my engagement night.”
I’m all for quick. So is everyone else, most likely. Usually these board meetings are on Wednesdays, and the veep’s wife provides a spread for us to eat while going over the club’s business. But there’s only one bit of business for today and no vittles to linger over.
I head toward my usual seat at the conference table, stopping to bump fists with patchholders I haven’t met up with since coming back—and pausing when I pass by Duke and Bull.
“Who’s got eyes on the cabin?” We’ve got plenty of cameras on the property, one aimed straight at Cherry’s cabin, and the video is monitored from the security station within the clubhouse.
“Grasshopper,” Duke says.
Good. That patchholder won’t fuck around in there.
“No prospects on security,” I tell them. “Shit just got bumped up a level, so keep more experienced eyes on those monitors.”
Bull nods. “Will do.”
I clap my hand against his giant shoulder in thanks, then settle in next to Zoomie. She bumps my fist and glances at Gunner, then dips her blonde head close to mine and says, “Did you win the pot?”
For the wager that’s been going on for years, placing bets on when Gunner and Anna will finally start banging.
“Yeah, I did. Beaver brought by a wad of cash earlier.”
“Fucker. You should be disqualified. You’ve got inside info and influence.”
If that was true, they’d have gotten together when I put in my first bet years ago. “You’re friends with Anna. That’s influence and inside info.”
“Not like family influence.”
Maybe not. But instead of agreeing, I ask real quiet, “Did you know about Creek?”
She shrugs. “Know what?”
“Nothing.” Because Zoomie won’t ever say, but that shrug tells me she knew Creek was undercover with the Hangmen. If she didn’t know, she’d lock onto my question and go after me for more. “Just thinking about inside info. And I heard you and Blowback got hitched in Vegas.”
Her flinty eyes flare wide, then narrow dangerously. “You say a word to anyone else, I’ll rip your tongue out. I don’t need to deal with that ‘wifey’ shit from a bunch of insecure boy bikers.”
“I ain’t saying a word.” I like my tongue. I especially like Cherry coming all over it. “I just thought it was real cute that you, a big tough biker, would go all softhearted and marry the club’s resident psychopath.”
She grins. “He tracked down the Desert Kings and we busted a few heads on our wedding night. It was so romantic. The best wedding present ever.”
Then I’ve got a wedding present for her, too. “I put down Sherlock in the Cage.”
Going still, she stares at me for a long second. Then bumps my fist again. “Good man.”
Yeah, that was the one good thing. What came after sure as hell wasn’t.
My throat closes up all at once and I stop talking. Just as well, since Saxon comes in and the meeting gets started. Blowback gives a rough sketch of what Spiral reported in from the Iron Blood’s clubhouse, and how it means that Papa getting wind of the Hellfire Riders’ involvement would be a real bad thing.
“The Butchers, too,” Saxon says. “Anyone give them a heads-up yet?”
Not yet. Gunner leans in. “Hashtag’s with them, chasing down that lead on the trucks moving the girls. He’s due to check in about twenty minutes from now. I’ll have him pass it along.”
Not good enough for the prez. “Get him on now.”
Cell reception out here is shit, so it’s on the landline and speakerphone that Gunner rings him up. As soon as the brother answers, Gunner tells him, “You’re talking to the board, so be on your best behavior. The prez wants an update.”
“We found a stable full of girls,” is Hashtag’s quick response. “No fighters.”
“You cut them loose?” the prez asks.
“We did.”
“You still with the Butchers?”
“I am. Heading home tomorrow.”
“You travel quiet,” Saxon tells him. “And tell the Butchers to keep their heads down. Papa took out the Iron Blood. Ain’t a stretch to think that he’ll take out anyone who’s been around the Cage if he discovers who was there.”
There’s a quick exchange of voices in the background, the sound flattening out as if Hashtag turned on his speakerphone, then Handlebar comes on. “He took out the Iron Blood?”
The prez doesn’t answer to anyone, so I take this one. “SUVs and suits rolled in, left nothing but ashes on the way out.”
“Shit. You still got Cherry?”
“She’s here.”
“Cherry?” Hashtag breaks in. “Is that her real name?”
Fuck knows what her real name is. “Why?”
“Does she have that name branded on the back of her neck? These stables we found, that’s how they marked their prize virgins.”
“No brand.” At least I’m fairly sure there isn’t. Now I’ll be looking again.
“That wasn’t how Cherry came in,” Handlebar tells him. “Lissa had a brand. But Crash and I figured that Cherry got nabbed, then they found out she was a nurse and so they used her for that. But since she’s a virgin, too, they dangled her cherry as a prize for the fighters.”
“What the fuck are you talking about, a virgin?” Her tight pussy itself had to be the prize because she can’t be a virgin. “You said Crash was fucking her while she sucked you off.”
“Nah, that was Lissa. She was an angel, too—and the girl they usually used as bait. But Tusk got his hands
on her just before you were brought in. So they made Cherry fill in for Lissa that time.”
A thick roaring fills my head. “I’m the only one she pulled in?”
“Yeah. Why the fuck did you think they called her Cherry?”
Christ if I know. I don’t know anything. “I figured they gave her a hooker name.”
“No. It’s because her entire worth to them was in that cherry.” Handlebar’s voice roughens. “You’ll take good care of her, yeah? She might have brought you in, but she did right by Crash and me. Stuck her neck out for him again and again. So if you can’t protect her from Papa, I will.”
Burning steel hardens in my chest. Hand her over? Not a fucking chance.
Not to anyone. “I’ll keep her safe.”
Though I wouldn’t have. I’d been on the verge of plowing into that hot little cunt. She’d been wet and eager but that wouldn’t make a difference if I’d torn into a virgin pussy.
I’d have hurt her. Really fucking hurt her. If I’d done that, if I’d ripped her up… I can’t bear to think about it.
Just thinking about how near to it I came tears new jagged edges around the hole in my chest. The rot’s sitting thick and heavy in me as the call finishes up. But everyone else is real entertained by it, patchholders sporting a collection of bemused expressions around the table. Then Bull says, “A virgin is on Hellfire Rider property? Then it’s time to start prepping for the zombie apocalypse, my friends, because I’m fairly certain this is how the end times begin.”
That draws a laugh, and over the sound of it Blowback says flatly, “She’s not a virgin anymore.”
Saxon abruptly frowns, his steely gaze burning a path to me. “Are you fucking her?”
Not yet. But that’s a technicality, because I will be.
“She offered payback for luring me in. I took her up on that offer.” But because I know what’s putting that fierce look in his eyes, I add, “She said yes real clear.”
“All right.” His tension eases. “Did you get anything out of her yet?”
“Not yet. But I will.”
“Maybe not, if she’s scared of you.” Zoomie regards me with narrowed eyes. “You did threaten to pull a train on her.”
During the raid. “She knew damn well I wouldn’t let anyone touch her.”
“It’s still a bitch ass thing to threaten.”
Yeah, it is. “And you think I give a fuck?”
Her gaze hardens dangerously.
Since the sergeant at arms is supposed to keep the peace between patchholders, Gunner jumps right in. “Hold up. Zoomie’s got a point. You were pretty hard on this girl that night. So she might be afraid of you. So how about this? Let me go in and talk to her—”
Over my dead fucking body. “She thought you were Strawman.”
“Yeah, okay. Then send in Zoomie. She might respond better to a woman, anyway.”
The rot starts boiling. “No.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s mine!” And I’m not handing her off to anyone. “Mine to protect. Mine to fuck. Mine to get answers from. Mine to do whatever the hell I want to do with her. She fucking owes me.”
“And you owe this club,” Saxon snaps, fury burning through each word like a whip. “First and foremost, you owe your fucking loyalty. Which means that whatever you do, you make sure it doesn’t bounce back on us in any way, and you’d better not let a fucking virgin or your fucking payback make you lose sight of that. You went through some shit. So I’ll give you some slack. But you better step real goddamn careful so I don’t have to snap it tight. And if I say she talks to Zoomie, she talks to Zoomie. If I say we turn her over to the feds, we turn her over to the feds. Until then, we’ll take care of her, keep Papa from touching her.”
Rot pours right off my tongue. “The way you took care of Anna?”
Everything goes real fucking quiet. Real fucking still. The prez stares at me, knuckles white, jaw clenched.
With lethal calm, he lifts his forefinger. “One minute to say your piece.”
Oh, I’ll say it. “They got to my sister,” I force out through clenched teeth. “My fucking sister. You want me to say my piece? First you explain to my satisfaction how that happened. The only thing I trusted while sitting in that stall was that Anna would be safe. That the Riders would look after her. That was the only fucking thing to hold onto. But they got to her, they made her bleed, and I killed a friend to protect her. To protect her, because you didn’t. I killed a man who was a brother to me because you let them get to her, and so I had to protect her from inside that fucking Cage. So don’t you talk to me about loyalty when I’ve got fifty brothers who should have been looking after her and not one of them did.”
By the end the rot has clogged up my throat so thick the words are barely getting through, each one sour and burning inside my chest.
Saxon’s gaze never leaves mine as he gives a single nod. Gruffly he says, “We fucked up.”
“Yeah.” Christ, and I can’t breathe. I shove my chair back. “So I’m not going to let the same happen to Cherry.”
Concern furrowing her brow, Zoomie reaches for me. “Stone—”
I bat her hand away. “Just fuck off.”
Every one of them can fuck off. I stalk out of the conference room, down the stairs, with goddamn fucking Gunner right on my tail.
“You want to blame someone?” He spreads his hands, inviting me to throw down on him. “Blame me. It was my family who put you in the Cage so they could get to me.”
“Fuck off with that bullshit, brother.”
“Then blame me because I’m the reason Anna went off alone. We were all out at Jenny’s place after Red’s funeral. Every Rider—and Anna, too. There was supposed to be someone who looked out for her when she left. But because we’re all tight-lipped assholes about club business, no one told her she was in danger and that the Riders were watching over her.” His voice thickens with emotion. “She got pissed at me because I’d been lying all week about you being missing, and I ended up saying that she didn’t mean anything to me, except that she was your sister. And I hurt her so bad that she left without telling anyone. So Chef got to her. Because we fucked up. Me especially, because I meant to protect her and only ended up hurting her. So you blame someone, you blame me.”
I can’t do that. “Just fuck off,” I tell him hoarsely.
His jaw tightens, and I know the stubborn bastard would chase after me forever if he thought it would help. But nothing will help. “Don’t give up on us. We’ll have your back. We’ll help you watch over this girl. But— Christ, man. What the fuck are you even thinking of with her?”
What am I thinking? I close my eyes, throat aching. Because I don’t want the sweetness. Don’t want the softness.
But I can’t stay away. “I’m thinking the only time this goddamn rot in my chest goes away is when I’m with her. I’m thinking it’s the only fucking time that I’m not a walking corpse.”
“Ah, hell.” Gunner softly breathes the curse. He catches my face in his hands, his eyes searching mine. “All right, brother. You take whatever time you need. We’ll be here on the other side. Yeah?”
I don’t know if I’ll get to the other side. But I nod.
“And if you need anything—”
“Yeah,” I say, pulling away. Because the only thing I need right now is in the cabin ahead.
A girl who would have let me rip into her so she could pay up a debt. A girl who did me a wrong but who doesn’t really owe me a goddamn thing. Not like these fuckers did. She didn’t owe me her loyalty. And sure as hell doesn’t owe me her pussy.
But she’s offering. So I’m taking. I’ll take anything she gives.
And I’m not letting anyone take her away.
I unlock the door. Wearing one of my shirts, she comes out of the bathroom in a rush, looking tousled and flushed and even prettier than the first time I saw her. My chest empties out, fills up again with all that fucking sweetness. Just from the sight of he
r. Her emerald eyes widen when I kick the door shut behind me and begin unfastening my belt.
Need roughens my voice. “Get on the bed, girl, and spread your legs real fucking wide.”
Because it’s payback time.
24
Something’s changed in the way Stone looks. I don’t know what. He’s still as big as ever, so tall and broad that his presence seems to fill up this entire cabin the moment he steps through the door. His dark blond hair’s not as rumpled as before, but flattened as if he’d been wearing a helmet—and as he comes closer, the cold and crisp scent of the wind clings to his clothes. But that’s not what’s different.
My head tips back when he stops right in front of me, pulling his belt free and tossing it aside. Now that he’s standing so close with his gaze locked on mine, I see what the change is.
It’s not the way Stone looks. It’s the way he looks at me. Still hungry. Still hot. But also more. As if he doesn’t just want my pussy. As if he doesn’t just want answers. As if he wants something else now, too.
I don’t know what it is, but it does something more to me, too. Not just a shiver racing over my skin. Not just the anticipation quivering through my stomach. But a tightness in my chest, joined by the sweetest longing—and the need to give whatever it is he wants from me.
Eyes narrowing, he taps his finger against my up-tilted chin. “I see you got some of that fight back while I was gone.”
Because I didn’t rush to the bed and spread my legs. But I wasn’t fighting. Just trying to figure out what had changed.
I’m glad now that I didn’t obey that order when he abruptly snags his arm around my waist, lifting me straight off my feet and carrying me to the bed. Not just meekly complying. But being taken. By someone I feel absolutely safe with.
So much better than just giving in.
“Let me explain to you how this is going to go from now on,” he says, tossing me down onto the mattress and unzipping his hoodie. “I come in that door, you tell me something about Papa. If you don’t, I tell you to get on the bed—either on your hands and knees, or on your back with your legs spread. And then I’ll use your pussy good and hard.”