Hard Rider (A Bad Boy Motorcycle Club Romance)

by Wild, Nikki

  Connor disappeared, lost to the smoke and the sound of my respirator. I was panting. Wasting oxygen.

  Losing time.

  The knife. I had to find it. But there was no way. I knew that, as a fireman. But as Tanya’s stepbrother, and as the man who wanted nothing more in all the world than to save her, I wanted to believe I could.

  “The whore must die!”

  I heard Connor’s footsteps approaching again, rushing toward me. I grabbed him around his waist, this time using his momentum to shove him away from me. He stumbled, but caught himself in time to keep his balance. He was thin and wiry, quick on his feet, which gave him a definite advantage. My gear might have been keeping me safe and alive, but up against a scrappy fuck like Connor, it was only weighing me down. Wearing me out.

  “She’s not a whore, you crazy piece of shit!” I growled, spreading my feet wider apart as Connor ran at me once again. I feinted left, hoping to throw him off guard, but he ducked right, spinning like a damn ballerina as he threw out his foot right toward my face.

  “Fuck!” I stumbled back as I felt my face starting to swell on my right side. The little shit hit harder than I’d expected, and if this kept up, I knew I’d tire out long before he did.

  “Brute! You think you can stop me from slaying my demon? You’ll only burn along with her!” Connor chided, a peal of laughter bubbling up from his throat. “We’ll all burn!”

  Connor looked over to the spreading flames as they worked their way across the stage, quickly catching the curtains. The orange light highlighted his gaunt features, making his twisted grin all the more horrifying to behold.

  “Like hell we will,” I said, moving as quickly as I could while his gaze held steady on his beloved fire.

  He noticed me coming for him, but it was far too late. I pulled back my fist and let it slam right into his cheekbone. I felt part of his face give under my punch, an inhuman wail erupting from his lips.

  Connor channeled that pain into anger, swinging himself back around, his eyes wild, wide like an animal caught in a corner—the kind that are always the most dangerous.

  “I’ll kill you!” he howled, launching himself at me full force before I could regain my balance after my last punch. His hands were around my throat before I could defend myself, forcing me to the ground as his grip began to tighten around my windpipe. “I’ll kill you both!”

  I tried to move, but the weight of my gear and Connor pinning me beneath himself was too much. No matter how much I struggled, I couldn’t get him to loosen his grip.

  Panic began to set in. Adrenaline pumped into my bloodstream, but it only served to use up what little of my breath I was already holding. If I couldn’t find a way to get free, then I was done for.

  Tanya and I both were.

  Everything started to go dark around the edges of my vision.

  “You fucking worthless sack of shit,” a raspy voice said, though I could barely make it out above the sound of my pulse hammering in my ears.

  Tanya was standing, clutching the chair she’d been tied to only moments before. With every choked breath, my sister flew into a coughing fit, one she only barely recovered from.

  Don’t try to save me you, idiot, I thought, still fighting against Connor’s grasp. Dammit, Tanya. Breathe!

  She sneered at Connor on top of me, inching closer. Her strength was flagging, but goddamn, she looked pissed. I wondered if that would be enough. “Who the fuck would ever want something as disgusting as you? You make me sick!”

  I looked up at Connor, his eyes no longer fixed on me as I lay beneath him. Instead he stared fixedly at Tanya, his mouth open, eyes wide and full of madness.

  “You,” he hissed, his lip curling up in a feral snarl, “I knew it was you! You couldn’t fool me, Mother. I could always see past your lies!”

  Connor scrambled to his feet, releasing me from the stranglehold he’d had me in. I gasped for air, watching as he stumbled toward my sister.

  This was going to be my only chance.

  I pushed myself up, taking huge, greedy gulps of air—what little of it was still breathable. The fire had consumed the curtains completely, tongues of flame reaching up into the rafters and catwalks above.

  I staggered forward, reaching out and grabbing a handful of Connor’s shirt in my hand. I pulled him hard, jerking him around to face me as I pulled my left arm back and let loose right underneath his jaw, sending him sprawling to the floor, unmoving.

  If there was a choice to be made in that situation, I don’t think there was even an option of which I had to make. I turned away from Connor the moment I heard Tanya’s scream rise from her throat, the flames mirroring themselves in my visor. I didn’t deliberate, I didn’t second-guess myself—I just acted.

  I leapt toward Tanya, my gear protecting me from the brunt of the heat as I took her into my arms. She felt just as light as she had the day I’d taken her from her apartment, saving just like I’d done before. I looked down into her eyes, half-open and red from the smoke, the eyes I never wanted to stop staring into.

  A loud crack broke me from my reverie, pulling my gaze upward as a heavy beam from the ceiling above began to give way.

  Shit, I thought, glancing down at Connor’s lifeless form. I had every mind to leave him there, to let him burn in his own damn mess—but something inside of me couldn’t do it.

  “This is Gunner. I’m down at the stage. I’ve got two civilians in here that need immediate-evac and medical treatment.”

  “Copy. Tim is heading your way. Grab whoever you can and we’ll meet you outside.”

  I turned my gaze back to my stepsister, only to find her passed out in my arms. I frowned and started walking toward the back-stage door and out toward the front of the theatre, stepping over Connor’s body on the way.

  “Get a cop ready to put the other civilian into custody—he’s the fucker who started this blaze. I’m bringing the victim out now.”

  “Roger that, Gunner. EMTs are standing by.”

  I carried Tanya out through the back stage exit, the double doors at the lobby streaming light like a gateway to heaven. I could practically hear a choir singing in the background.

  “Gun,” Tanya whispered as we emerged out into the light of the afternoon sun. “This is the second time you’ve taken me out of a fire.”

  “Yeah,” I whispered, as I carried her to a waiting stretched, a team of EMTs waiting to put an oxygen mask over her mouth. “Probably not a good idea to make this a habit. There are better ways to come see me when I’m at work.”

  Tanya smiled as they fit the plastic mask over her face, breathing deep.

  I breathed with her, exhaling a sigh of relief and turning around just in time to watch Tim hauling Connor’s limp body out of the theatre. I couldn’t help but smile as I watched an officer put cuffs on his wrist and attach the bastard to a stretcher just before rolling him into another ambulance.

  I stripped off my gear, throwing it into the cabin of one of the fire engines before making a dash for Tanya’s ambulance before it managed to head off without me. I wasn’t about to let her wake up without anyone there—without me there.

  Chapter 22

  Tanya

  Three months later...“All right, baby. Where to?”

  I looked at the road map in my hands, frowning at all the lines and squiggles. I turned it over, scouring the back for a clue, but then Gunner turned it right-side-up for me and I sighed through my nose.

  “Can’t we just use GPS like normal, civilized folk?”

  My stepbrother grinned at me, the sunlight glinting off his shades. “We ain’t normal, baby. Never have been, never will be. Now, pick a place.”

  I shoved the map back into the glove compartment and shook my head, looking over my shoulder and into the backseat of Gunner’s newly-repaired Mustang. “What do you think, Jax? Where should we go?”

  Jax stared at me, jaws agape, his big, pink tongue lolling out and splattering drool everywhere. For a guy who loved t
o boast about the integrity of his classic car, Gunner sure didn’t seem to care a whole lot about dog slobber ruining the leather seats.

  “He don’t know nothin’,” my stepbrother said, scratching Jax behind his ears before turning back to me. “But I’m serious, baby. I really wanna know.”

  I put my bare feet up on Gunner’s dash and gave the question a moment of thought. We were leaving the city far behind us—at least, for a little while.

  Gunner’s vacation time was long gone, but the Captain gave permission to take a leave of absence at the fire station. After what happened with my stalker, the shrink the department kept on hand thought it’d be a damn good idea. Broken firefighters were of no help to anybody. Often, they did more harm than good. You needed a certain kind of mettle to pull people out of burning buildings, and if that was compromised, you ran the risk of a fireman turning more dangerous than the flames themselves.

  But when I looked at my stepbrother, I didn’t see dangerous or broken. Not in that way. I saw the man who’d saved my life—multiple times. The guy who’d rescued me in every sense of the word.

  My big damn hero.

  Not that he didn’t have a few scars to show for it. But damn, didn’t we all? Nobody ever came out unscathed from a fire. Whether that was a metaphor for life or the real damn thing, the outcome was the same.

  Those first few nights back at Gunner’s house had been rough on us both. I kept waking up from nightmares of Connor sneaking in and setting us on fire while we slept. Or sometimes he was just this monster made of fire, and he was chasing me down the hall, but the hallway never ended and I would just scream and scream and scream.

  Sometimes I even woke up screaming. Sometimes Gunner woke up ready for a fight. Even though our waking minds both knew he was in jail—and that whether he stayed in that cell or they moved him to a psych facility, there was no chance of him ever getting out—that didn’t stop us from suffering through the terror he’d left in his wake as soon as we closed our eyes.

  Those were the nights Gunner took me the hardest, trying to fuck away the memories haunting us both.

  So knowing that my stepbrother was weighed down by what we’d been through was no surprise to me. We all carried around our own burdens.

  Today, though, that load was gonna get a little lighter. We were embarking on an adventure, a road trip through all fifty states. We’d camp out under the stars. We’d stay in pet-friendly hotels. We’d see the sights and all the landmarks. He’d promised me we’d even stay at a few haunted places and try to catch some ghosts.

  We were finally going to have that family trip we’d always wanted. Always deserved. Except we were adults now, and the nature of our family had become...

  Different.

  And it was getting larger… My hand swept over my belly, feeling the swelling that had begun to show. There was no way to be sure this early, but I already knew we were going to have a son.

  Gunner leaned over to me and swept my hair past my shoulder with his fingers. When I looked at him he cupped my cheek and smiled. “You got two choices, baby. Are we goin’ east, or west?”

  I bit my lip and tried to think of an answer, but it was hard to think of anything when my stepbrother was looking at me like that. Of course, he wasn’t really my stepbrother now. Our parents were gone. There were no laws that said we couldn’t get married. Nobody would even know unless we told them.

  Nothing was set in stone. We weren’t making any commitments or decisions. This trip was about fun, about living, about getting to know each other as friends and lovers. This was our chance to get the hell away from the consequences for a while and just be us. And I was gonna relish every damn moment of it.

  I’d spent too long running from my stepbrother. Now, I was gonna run with him.

  I looked up at the sky outside the windshield.

  “Las Vegas,” I said with a smile. “That’s the direction I wanna go in.”

  Gunner grinned. “Might take us a while to get there, baby, but you got it.” He brushed his thumb past my lips. “Sin City,” he mused. “Something tell me we’ll fit right in.”

  “As long as I’m with you, we can go anywhere. Do anything.” I kissed his hand. “Wherever we are, if I wake up next to you, that place is home.”

  Gunner pulled me toward him, pressing our foreheads together. “You’re goddamn right.”

  We shared a kiss, one of many we’d indulged in these past few months, but one unlike any other I’d known. This was a kiss of unbridled passion, of liberation, of freedom. The first kiss of our new lives together. The start of a journey. The start of something new.

  I closed my eyes and let Gunner’s desire engulf me. When he pulled away, I could feel his lips had left mine scorched.

  “I love you, Tanya,” he whispered to me. I could tell by the pounding of his pulse that he’d never said those words to anyone. Not like he said them to me.

  My heart swelled. I cupped his face in my hands. It felt so good to feel his skin beneath both of them now that I’d gotten my bandages off. “I love you too,” I told him.

  We kissed again, harder this time, high on our confessions and the thought of new beginnings. But then Jax barked, reminding us that we were idling on the side of the road that split before us, one side taking us east, the other west across the country.

  “Las Vegas,” Gunner chuckled, adjusting his shades. He put the Mustang into gear. “Maybe we should visit one of those drive-thru chapels.”

  I laughed at him. “You’re out of your mind.” But really? I wouldn’t have minded it. I had no intention of ever leaving Gunner’s side. Not when we’d finally, truly found each other.

  We pulled onto the highway that would lead us to parts unknown, our hands entwined over the gear shift, just a car full of suitcases, the world’s worst guard dog, a baby on the way, and two people madly in love.

  Rock Hard

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  “The truth of course is that there is no journey. We are arriving and departing all at the same time.”

  -David Bowie

  Chapter 1

  Catherine

  “Come on, sweet tits, join the party!”

  “What a prick!” That was my first thought.

  “Holy fucking hell, he’s so much hotter in person.” That was my second.

  “How am I ever supposed to remain professional with a man like him? A man that would have made Mother Theresa spread her legs and beg for forgiveness for all the forbidden sins she was about to commit.” That was the third.

  Ten years. Ten years that I’d worked my ass off, hustled and bargained, slaved over a keyboard until dawn, cracked out on caffeine trying to chase a lead. I’d interviewed world leaders, gone undercover to expose sex-trafficking rings, hell once I’d even scored an interview with the Queen.

  And now, here I was, on the most asinine assignment ever, in the back of a rockstar’s tour bus, forced to endure the scene in front of me. Not only that, but the most arrogant prick I’d ever met was the subject of my interview.

  It didn’t matter that he was so fucking drop-dead sexy it almost hurt to look at him. The problem was, he knew it.

  Liam Mercury - the biggest rock star this side of the pond. The lead singer for the Electric Horses, the biggest Brit-pop band since Oasis.

  Deep in the back of his tour bus parked outside of Madison Square Garden in New York City, Liam’s lanky
limbs spilled out on a black leather couch, the table in front of him littered with empty bottles of champagne and whiskey. Sitting at his side were two of the most gorgeous women I’d ever seen. If you could call them that. They didn’t look to be any older than nineteen.

  His crude greeting was hurled at me in between removing his tongue from the blonde’s mouth and shoving it into the brunette’s. I waited till he came up for air to respond.

  “I’m Catherine Donovan.”

  “I don’t care if you’re the fucking Queen, shimmy off those knickers and get over here!”

  I shook my head. He was frightfully mistaken if he thought I was another one of his groupies. Everything about him was a cliche. Hot, spoiled, sexy, topped off with a thick British accent.

  He was every teenaged girl’s dream. And every parent’s worst nightmare.

  His long black hair flowed past his shoulders, his dark hooded eyes smoldering with sexuality. His slim, toned physique was familiar - it’d been splayed over every magazine cover and tabloid rag for the last ten years. He was all sinewy muscle and hard angles. His smooth skin was slathered in tattoos, engraved with skulls and screaming monsters and one very large British flag that I knew was spread across his back, even though I couldn’t see it now.

  I knew lots of things about Liam Mercury. I’d spent hours googling him before my arrival. I was hoping to discover something about him that hadn’t already been reported a hundred times before. That was how I worked. I took my job seriously, even if it was something that I felt was completely superficial.

  “I’m sure your manager told you to expect me —,” I began again, just as the table began moving on its own, sliding backwards until the ginger that had her head buried in his lap popped her head up - exposing his very thick, and very hard… cock.