Scary Hot: An Until Series and Club Alias Series Crossover

by KD Robichaux

  Z shushes him, and he immediately stops.

  “What in the world, woman? Don’t you know how much I love you? How much I worship the very ground you walk on?” he asks, and I can hear the hurt in his voice.

  I cough out another sob. “I know! That’s why I said I’m dumb! But… but you’re so fucking secretive! When I ask you anything about your day, you always give me these vague answers. You never talk to me about what’s going on with the club, which doesn’t leave much else, because those guys were your life before I came along. So when you’re me, and you’ve been cheated on in the past, that’s automatically where my mind goes when you won’t give me straight answers.”

  “That’s what all this is about?” he asks, and he has the audacity to let out a laugh.

  I glare up at him. “Yes, Z! That’s what this is about. How can we have a good relationship if you aren’t willing to communicate with me? Don’t you trust me?”

  He squeezes me tighter. “Of course I trust you, crazy girl. I wouldn’t be here night after night, making love to you and telling you I love you, if I didn’t trust you. I’m vague, because I’m trying to keep you safe. If you didn’t know this about yourself, you like to take things into your own hands and go on these potentially dangerous adventures. If I tell you all that’s going on, it would be just like you to plan something crazy, when I need you home, safe, protected, out of our way so we can handle it. Not to mention, you have my baby inside you now. So I didn’t want to take any chance of you getting one of your bright ideas.”

  I have no sassy retort to that. He’s exactly right.

  Fuck.

  But that still doesn’t fix the fact he doesn’t communicate with me.

  I sniffle. My tears drying up the longer he rubs my back and soothes me with his reassurances. Finally, I concede, “What… what if I promised not to take matters into my own hands? Would you then promise to tell me things?”

  His chocolate eyes stare into mine, and he must see I really need this for my peace of mind. “Against my better judgment, yes. If you swear on our child that you will not go on one of your adventures behind my back, then yes, I will always answer your questions. I won’t be secretive anymore. I’ll tell you everything that’s going on. But you have to know I’m entrusting you with some fucking serious information, so I’m confiding in you, trusting that you won’t tell anyone.”

  I flinch at that. “Not even July?” I wince.

  He pooches out his lips, thinking for a moment. “Only after I clear with Wes that he’s already told her.”

  “Deal.” I sigh. I lay my head on his shoulder, letting his warmth seep into my skin, the nausea from earlier lessening the longer he holds me close. “So what’s going on, Z? What was the secret meet-up about tonight?”

  He moves us until he can pull out his phone from his pocket, and hides the screen from me as he says, “These pictures are graphic, kitten. Don’t look unless you think you can handle it.”

  I nod, but I already know I’ll look. It’s just my nature.

  He hands me his cell, and I gasp in shock.

  It’s an image of a woman not much older than me and July. She looks like she hasn’t bathed in a long time, and her clothes are dirty. She’s tied up, her nose bleeding, one eye swollen shut, black, and blue. There are also bruises on her arms in the shape of handprints.

  “Mellissa Hornel. Twenty-five and a college graduate. She went missing three weeks ago. Had a date with a guy she met online. She never made it home, and three days later, she showed up for sale.” He pauses. “Flip to the next one.”

  I do as he says, holding my breath. This girl is younger than Mellissa. Her blonde hair is tied up in a ponytail, her lip is swollen, and you can tell they tried to cover the bruise around her eye with makeup.

  “Stacy Landon. She got a new boyfriend not knowing he’s the son of a fucking piece of shit. Her parents filed a missing person report even though the police refused to believe she didn’t run away. Her boyfriend’s dad put her up for sale three days ago. Tonight, Wes was going to buy her. But our plan was… thwarted, as you say.”

  I look up at him. “Thwarted?” I squeak, dreading his response, because I know… I just know… I was the one who thwarted their carefully laid plans.

  “There’s nothing… nothing, kitten… that would keep me from putting you first and foremost in my life. Not one thing. If I got a single hint that you’re not safe, not where you’re supposed to be, while I’m trying to take care of something, I’m going to drop everything I’m doing that second to make sure you’re okay.”

  My lip trembles. “It’s because of me that girl didn’t get rescued tonight,” I whimper.

  His hold on me tightens. “We’ll get another chance. We’re not going to stop until we stop this fucker,” he assures, and I nod against him, closing my eyes and eventually falling asleep in his arms.

  14

  Kayan

  “Fuuuu—fluke my life!” I growl at my cell, and Z chuckles. He doesn’t understand why I’ve been trying to retrain myself to watch my language. It’s not like we have a baby coming or anything. I side-eye him. “Stop laughing! It’s another one.”

  And just like I knew he would, he stops once he knows who’s calling. This is getting totally out of hand.

  I told my parents our big news about a week ago. I had expected anger. I had expected their lectures and disappointment in me. I had expected and prepared myself for all the things.

  Or so I thought.

  What I hadn’t expected was for my father to try to set me up with men he deemed worthy of our family.

  Here I am, carrying the child of the man I love and who loves me, who I live with, and my father keeps giving out my phone number to random guys and telling them to ask me out.

  And let’s just say Z does not find it amusing.

  At all.

  So that’s why I hold the phone away from him, where we’re lying in bed, when he tries to reach for it. “No way! You are not answering. It’s not their fault my dad is a completely messed-up douchebag. I don’t want to make the poor guy pee himself. I just want the calls to stop,” I whine.

  He holds out his hand. “Kitten, give me the phone.” When I still just shake my head, he says sincerely, “I promise I won’t make him pee himself. I’ll be nice and courteous.”

  I bite my lip, narrowing my eyes at him. He always keeps his promises, so I finally hand him my cell, watching as he slides his thumb across the screen to answer.

  “Hello,” he answers politely, his deep voice resonating throughout the bedroom. “Yes, this is Kayan’s phone, not the wrong number.” A pause. “Not your fault, Mark. Unfortunately, you’ve been lied to. Fortunately for us, Kayan and I are very happy in a committed relationship with our first child on the way.”

  My body breaks out in chills from head to toe at “first child,” and my face goes soft as he keeps his calm tone.

  “Yes. Oh, it’s no problem. But would you mind doing me a solid? Because you’re not the first to call, and it’s upsetting my woman during her first trimester, and I’d like to keep her as calm as possible, since it’s a delicate time during her pregnancy,” he relays.

  I can’t help but smile. My man is addicted to googling all things pregnancy. He has thirteen—thirteen!—baby apps on his phone, and he religiously checks each and every one of them to see what’s happening inside my uterus that day. If a giant, scary hot, former military biker can be adorable, then that’s exactly what Z is. Freaking adorable.

  “If it’s not too much trouble, would you please spread it around your social circle that Kayan is taken and is glowingly, beautifully with child?”

  I slap my hand across my face to hide the laughter that suddenly wants to burst from me. My whole body shakes from the suppressed cackles that want to break free. I move my hand, mouthing With child? And roll my eyes. God, I love this man.

  He winks at me with a grin. “I’d greatly appreciate that, Mark. You have a great day.” And he ha
ngs up. “See? I told you I’d be nice.”

  I giggle. “That you did. I’m quite proud.”

  “Kitten, we’ve really gotta work on your bad habit of wanting to answer your phone while we’re… busy,” he says, kissing my inner thigh, where he’s been lying between my legs, the backs of my thighs resting on his shoulders. “You’re gonna give me a complex.” He licks the place where my inner thigh connects to my center, making me squirm. “Make me think I’m not doing a good job down here, when you continue to pick it up every time it rings.”

  His tongue swipes from the very bottom of my opening to the hood over my clit, making me sigh. “No way, Z. There’s no way you could be doing a better job. I swear—oooooh, just like that—it’s just a compulsion. I’m an office manager—oh, God! I don’t have it in me to not answer when the phone rings.”

  “Then new rule, kitten,” he growls against my sensitive nub. “The phone goes on silent when we’re in bed.” He sucks my clit between his lips, and my eyes cross.

  “Deal!” I cry, as shudders take over my entire body.

  15

  Z

  “Yeah, so long story short, my best friend went and got herself kidnapped by these a-holes who were running a sex trafficking ring. Yep, the same guys who were fighting the dogs that were being dropped off at our clinic. Ugh. It’s like she was trying to send me into early labor or something. Jeez. But of course, she’s a badass. I mean a bad mamajama. I’d like to think it’s all the adventures I’ve made her go on. My partner in crime put together all the skills I’ve taught her, and she not only saved herself, but a girl who had been taken before her. And the guys rode in on their motorcycles like knights on horses, and now they’re both doing fine.” Kayan bites a slice of orange, taking a sip of Sprite behind it. It’s her go-to snack, a craving that points to our baby being a girl, according to my Glow Nurture app.

  I watch as she continues to gossip on the phone with my mom, her feet propped up on the coffee table, the damn Chihuahua curled up at the top of her stomach between her tits.

  “No shi— shut the front door. Seriously?” she corrects herself and I smile, both at her attempt to watch her language and at her sudden excitement. Her eyes meet mine. “Your mom just told me that espresso has less caffeine in it than regular brewed coffee. I can totally go back to having my lattes!”

  I raise a brow and shake my head. “One a day, kitten. Doc said no more than one a day.”

  She sticks her bottom lip out, keeping her narrowed eyes on me as she then shoves two orange slices into her mouth. “Whatever.”

  After a few more minutes of chatting, Kayan hands me the phone, saying my mom wants to talk to me.

  “Have you done it yet?” she asks, and my heart gives a heavy thud.

  “Not yet, Ma,” I reply, rubbing the back of my shaved head.

  “Better get on it, son. Or some other guy is gonna come along and snatch her up right from under you,” she teases, knowing about Kayan’s dad trying to set her up with other men a couple months ago. My woman has formed a very strong bond with my mom, talks to her every day and tells her everything. It warms me like nothing else before. My mom has the daughter she always longed for, and Kayan has the parent she wished she’d had all along.

  “I’m on it, Ma,” I drawl. “Love you. And tell Pop I said hi.”

  “Will do, baby boy. Love you. Talk to you later,” she replies, and we hang up.

  I stand, taking Kayan’s empty bowl and glass as I hand her back her cell. I dump the rinds in the trashcan, rinse the dishes and set them to the side of the sink, knowing she’ll just want to reuse them in an hour or so, when the craving strikes again. I’ve lost count of how many bags of Cuties we’ve gone through. But she swears three tiny mandarins are what baby wants, not one big navel orange.

  But whatever. What my kitten wants, my kitten gets.

  I go over to the couch and hold out my hand to her, and she glances at it then up to my eyes. “Where we going? I just got comfy,” she says, lifting her hand to pet LeFou.

  “Just trust me on this one,” I tell her, and she groans but holds onto the tiny dog before allowing me to help her up from her sprawled position on the couch. I take him from her, and she disappears into the bedroom to grab some shoes.

  I put him in his crate, pausing to pat him on his little head. The little guy has grown on me. Hard not to like him when he listens to my every command and obviously seeks my approval, his entire body trembling as he tiptoes toward me when Kayan and I are relaxing. He’ll look up at me with those watery bug-eyes, and I can just hear in his doggie voice, “Please let me love you. Pick me up, Dad. I just want to snuggle.” In my head, he speaks in a weird accent, Spanish and French mixed together.

  Kayan knew what she was doing when she started in with all the baby talk. “LeFou wants hims daddy to hold him. Hold me, Daddy. I just want to lick every inch of your exposed skin. Don’t make it weird. Just let it happen.”

  When I look up from my kneeling position by the crate, I see Kayan grinning at me. “What?” I prompt.

  She puts her hands behind her head and starts circling her hips, singing “Big guy with a little dog. Big guy with a little dooooog.” She sings it to match the way Chris Farley does in Tommy Boy, when he croons, “Fat guy in a little coat,” and I can’t help but chuckle. God, I love this woman more than anything.

  I stand up and open the front door, swatting at her hand when she reaches for her purse hanging on one of the hooks I installed on the wall. I grab my bike keys, and hear her usual hesitation. “You sure it’s a good idea—”

  “How many times I gotta tell you, babe? Ain’t no way I’d let anything happen to you. Plus, we’ll be on back roads, so we won’t have to worry about other vehicles either.”

  She looks at me curiously. “Back roads? Where are you taking me? Are you finally over me making fun of how much you love LeFou? Are you going to bury me somewhere so you can have him all to yourself?” she teases.

  I just roll my eyes, locking the door behind us and listening to her jokes as she follows me to my bike.

  “You should get him some little doggy goggles and a scarf, and put a basket on the front of your bike for him to ride in,” she continues, swinging her leg over as she gets on behind me. “I’d say a side car, but he’s only four pounds. A basket on the front would be plenty. And I’ll even get you some pretty streamers to come out of your handlebars!”

  That pulls me out of my nervous quiet, and I snort out a laugh before starting the bike, the engine roaring to life and making Kayan sigh in my ear as she wraps herself around my back. As weary as she was in the beginning, she loves to take rides now, even if she is a little hesitant about doing it pregnant. But she’s barely showing yet, and I’ve always been a safe rider. It’s why I got a Harley instead of a crotch rocket. I’m not about speed and splitting lanes. I just like to cruise.

  We’re at the destination in half an hour, and as I hold the bike steady for Kayan to climb off first, she comes around to the front, looks behind her at the building, and then back at me, raising an eyebrow and one side of her top lip.

  “Um, babe. I appreciate the thought, but bar food isn’t on my list of cravings. Plus, I thought you said I wasn’t allowed to come back here ever again,” she says, and I chuckle, getting off the bike and immediately towering over her. “Also, I think they’re closed. Or they’re just really, really dead.” She glances around at the empty parking lot.

  “One, Momma’s Country is a safe place again, now that we helped the kid and his dad get out from under Snake’s guys. It’s now under the protection of The Broken Eagle Motorcycle Club, thanks to two crazy girls in catsuits.” I smile, and she beams up at me proudly. “Two, they’re closed until tonight. But they happen to have delicious chicken wings and burgers, so don’t knock ‘em till you try ‘em.”

  She giggles. “Fair enough. We’d have to eat out on the patio though. Too much smoke inside.” Her hands unconsciously go to her little belly as she glan
ces back at the bar. But my voice pulls her back.

  “Three.” I reach into my pocket and pull out the ring I have waiting there. I picked it out a month ago, but have been trying to wait for the perfect moment to ask her. I go down on my knee, next to my bike and in front of the woman I love, who lets out a squeak as I reach out to pull her hands from her belly to hold in my left palm, the ring ready for her finger in my right. It never fails to stand out how tiny she is compared to me. “It was here, at this bar, that I first laid eyes on you. You were on one of your adventures, dressed in a catsuit in the middle of a country bar, and all eyes, including mine, were on you. I thought, Who is this delicious feline, this sexy little Cat Woman? But when I spoke to you, you tried to skitter away like a scared kitten. And that’s when I started calling you just that—my kitten. But you proved over and over again that my kitten has claws, and even though it first intrigued me how shy you were—it was in this exact parking spot that I told you I’d never had shy in my bed before—it was when you’d bare those claws and sharp fangs that really made me want to make you mine.”

  Tears start to fall down her cheeks, and for once, it doesn’t make me crazy. I know these are happy tears because of the smile stretched across her beautiful face.

  “I love every single one of your facets, Kayan. I love your shyness, and your sassiness. I love how feisty you can be, and how loyal you are to your best friend. I love how you give me shit, and can take it all the same. And I want you to know that it’s not because you’re pregnant that I want to make you mine forever. Our baby is just the cherry on top, even though I don’t even deserve the cake in the first place.”