Wicked Kind of Love

by Nicole Snow

  He held them out to me. They were thick, strong, enormous. The skin was a little irregular.

  “They're...holy shit. So smooth. You lost your fingerprints?”

  “Prints, lines, everything. Nothing's barely come back in three years too. I rushed in and held up that hot sonofabitch while the brothers came running to get it propped up and rip the torch away. The knife in the hip today doesn't have shit on feeling your hands melt on hot metal. If the fire burned for a few seconds longer, the whole damned club would've blown itself sky high. There wouldn't be a Devils charter west of the Mississippi left.”

  “Wow. You're a hero, then.” I didn't let myself gush all over him, but I really was impressed.

  “Did what I needed for my brothers. Same fucking thing I'll do a thousand more times if I have to. I put this club first and everybody in it. Brothers, business, all our supporters.” He fixed his eyes on me and wouldn't look away. “I appreciate you fixing me up and looking after my ass all over again. I know some bullshit went down between us last time we were together. One thing hasn't changed: I'll keep returning the favor. If you ever need anything, babe, you know where to find it. You come straight to me.”

  I nodded. Damn. He'd stolen my energy, my desire, and now my certainty. He insisted everything he did was for the club, but this offer was for me, and it wasn't just club business. I could feel it.

  Smiling, I reached for his dog tags. He didn't stop me.

  “So, that's your road name. Guess you wanted me to work to find out what you're really called...” He shrugged as I held the one metal tag up to the light. “John Richmond.”

  I blinked. Tank cleared his throat.

  “I like it,” I said. “It's a good, strong name.”

  “Momma never got real creative naming her boys. Whatever, I'm not complaining.” He nodded, as if to reassure himself. “Simple name like that helps a man blend in. It can be useful with the places I've been.”

  He had a point. I let the tag slip back in place, listening to the metal chime on its chain.

  “You'll be okay here for the night? I can bring you a few more blankets and pillows to keep you comfy.”

  Tank smiled. “Forget it. You've already run yourself stupid picking up after my clumsy ass. I've slept in the fucking dirt. This table is a big improvement over mud, not to mention those army bunks too.”

  I laughed. On my way out, my heart was skipping. All the fear and anxiety I had about crossing him was gone.

  If he had a clue where this was heading, he wasn't showing his hand. But for the first time since he blew town, there was some hope, a gentle optimism I hadn't known I wanted before I saw him laid out on my table.

  There were no guarantees Tank would open his heart or his bed to me. But at least he wasn't afraid to open his hand in friendship, wiping away the awkwardness and hostility I feared. We had a new understanding.

  Of course, friendship wasn't half of what I wanted. Not really.

  My heart, body, and soul wouldn't be satisfied until he wrapped those gigantic, mean looking arms of his around me and took us to a private place for a deeper, fiercer understanding I'd never forget.

  V: Duty's Torture (Tank)

  My body took a fucking beating. Nothing pissed me off more than the limits of my own skin, especially when it was too damned torn up to make me useful to my brothers.

  Then again, nothing would've made a dent in the grim, heavy shit suffocating the clubhouse the past couple weeks. Would've needed magic to lift this storm.

  The rogues on our asses were out to kill us, and skullfuck our minds in the process.

  They made their point crystal fucking clear when they killed Saffron's mom. The girl was plenty shaken up by the tragedy, and Blaze was all over her, dead set on bringing their asses to Devil justice. Throttle was all over him too, riding my boss hard.

  If we didn't show the rogues Satan's Scythe, and soon, the real Grizzlies were gonna come rolling in to deal with these imposters wearing their patches and running goddamned circles around us.

  When the heat's on in this club, it's never just a little pressure. It's like fucking comets raining from the sky, exploding in molten lava, burning up the whole damned world.

  I walked with my cane. Felt good to get out of the infirmary once in awhile, especially when Emma wasn't there. She still insisted it was the safest place for me while the damned tear in my hip healed.

  I gripped the cane tight, wandering past the empty bar, past the whore's room. If I'd pressed my ear close, I would've heard Stinger cussing his guts out, pumping another load into Marianne or Sangria. The two girls were lonely without as many visits from the brothers.

  Guess all this stress killed the hell outta lust, except for Stinger's. I knew I wasn't feeling shit. Except when she was around.

  When Em had her little hands anywhere on these bones, it was like lightning. I wanted to grab her palms and turn them over, make sure she didn't have an electrode attached. Every bolt that went raking through my system always spiked down, straight to my cock, vaporizing the cool I damned well wanted to keep.

  Fuck! Look at you, boy. You can't stop thinking about her, especially when she hasn't been by for more than a day.

  I shook my head, fighting nasty thoughts. I stopped at the door to the room where Blaze had Saffron under guard. She hadn't stuck her head out since her mom's funeral a few days ago. I lingered, thinking about Em, and feeling my heart sink when I thought too long and hard.

  Bad fucking karma in here. Real bad. The door didn't do shit to block out the suffering behind it.

  Saffron's pain was a cold splash of water that iced my fire for the hottest girl alive who had scrubs hugging her sweet ass.

  Blaze's girl was a living, breathing warning about what waited for any woman who got too deep in this business, too deep for their own damned good one with any brother. So was June, Maverick's old lady, a chick who would've been killed or raped herself without a lot of luck. Sticking her sharp fucking claws into anybody who fucked with her helped too.

  Shook my head again. I practically heard rocks rolling around, all the broken, heavy dreams that collided with reality and shattered it to pieces.

  If this world was a cold SOB, then mine was a fucking glacier.

  Soon as a man puts on his patch, he's got his freedom and his family, men who'd lay down their lives for him. The road forges bonds thicker than blood or money or piddly little hobbies.

  I understood that much perfectly. This life gave me the camaraderie I never got overseas. I put my ass on the line for ungrateful bastards who'd signed up to dodge Taliban mortars and bullets for a dental plan and a college education. Me, I came looking for something greater, some higher purpose.

  No, it wasn't God and country. I wanted to find more men who didn't fit the world's nice smooth edges, jagged fucks whose worst nightmare was squeezing into a suit and tie for punching a nine-to-five clock.

  I'd found them in the MC, my brothers. Not in the military. Everybody who shared Satan's patch took their duties on the nose, the price of wearing these colors and enjoying all their privileges.

  Brotherhood came easy, without hesitation. I was ready to pay my ton in flesh if it benefited the club. I'd offer up my hands, my body, my blood. Knives and bullets and burns didn't have shit on dishonor, the one bitter thing I'd never tolerate.

  I knew my job and understood what I had to do to keep my boys safe. Too bad Em was a whole different game.

  Why wasn't it so fucking clear cut with her?

  I watched Blaze twisting himself to pieces, desperate to hold onto the flame he'd lit with Saffron and keep her safe. Really, he was bending over backwards to marry two worlds that were never meant to be.

  It was obvious. And yet, I didn't call him out, didn't climb up and get all high and mighty. I understood what he was doing because I had the same crazy temptation rampaging in my skull. I wanted Emma so bad I was gonna put her at risk, even if things seemed rosy when some assholes weren't snapping at our he
els.

  But I wasn't like Blaze and Maverick. There was no damned way I was gonna let the angel who'd saved my ass twice wrap herself around me while I had a target on my back.

  Or, worse, drag her into mourning me when I took a direct hit between the eyes instead of a glancing blow. Soon as I was able to ditch the cane, I'd be back in the field, riding with my brothers to take the motherfuckers who'd hit us straight to hell. And it might be one battle where my luck finally ran out.

  I couldn't do that to her.

  Fuck, I couldn't do it to myself, couldn't stand to rip her heart to pieces. I couldn't be the man for her when she deserved so much fucking better than the pitch black violence strapped to my shoulders like bloody stones. Especially when I couldn't hold those rocks forever, so heavy and unwieldy they threatened to roll right off my back and smash her if she got too close.

  My half-healed cut pulsed angrily beneath my bandages as I hobbled back to the infirmary, a white knuckle grip on the cane. Blaze was in his office, spewing muffled, intense words at somebody on the phone.

  My stomach knotted, and the wound throbbed again below the belt. This wasn't an infection. I didn't need any med school degree to know it stung because pushing Em away was gonna be a bastard.

  Like it or not, I had to get this shit over with so I could get on with club business, and she could get on with hers. No other way around it.

  I had to tell her. Had to spell it out in a way she wouldn't question, wouldn't doubt, and wouldn't come crawling back the next time she had to kiss my bruises.

  The only way to protect Emma was to smash her pretty heart.

  The door to the whore's room wasn't locked. I pushed my way inside and found Marianne stretched out on the big bed. Stinger was passed out face down next to her, bare ass up.

  Fuck. The atmosphere here was so shitty everybody was drowning their sorrows in Jack or pussy.

  I reached into my wallet and crinkled the crisp bills loudly to get her attention. Her eyes lit up when she saw me in the corner. Marianne slid off the bed, cat-like and fluid, reaching for her robe on the floor. She barely closed it as she approached, a saucy smile on her fat lips.

  The woman was a little older than girls like Sangria. Already had herself an ex-husband and a couple kids, but she was one of those hot blondes who couldn't resist the danger and sex the brothers offered. Hot and blonde, yeah, just the way I liked 'em – but she didn't have one damned flame to Emma's perfect ten.

  “What's up, Tank?” she purred. “You looking for another massage today? Sleeping on that shitty table back there must be hell while you're healing.”

  I pushed the bills into her hands. “I'm giving you a down payment on service rendered. You fucked me this fine afternoon. Not Stinger.”

  I pointed, narrowing my eyes. Shock and confusion flickered in her eyes.

  “I don't understand. You know the brothers get whatever they want, and they don't have to pay for it.” Her smile was back, and her long red fingernails brushed my chest, coming closer. “Don't tell that sexy head of yours isn't working like it should? They said the spill you took when you got stabbed was bad, but I didn't know –“

  “I'm not retarded. Haven't forgotten shit either. I know how my own damned club works. That money's to keep your mouth shut except when somebody asks if you've been with me. Anybody asks you that question, bitch – anyone – then you tell them I got this cock rode like nothing else. Understand?”

  “Not really...but I'll do it. Thanks, Tank. I can use the extra scratch.” She flashed her perfect white teeth.

  I turned, eager to get the fuck out of there. Had to step over a half-dressed Sangria on the floor.

  Stinger chuffed in his sleep, smacking his lips when the bed creaked with Marianne returning. My VP took his R & R seriously, and he liked to hog both girls to himself to fuck the stress outta his system.

  I wished a simple brainless fuck would've been the answer to my problems. Slowly, I closed the door, a couple hundred bucks poorer and ready to slit my own throat in front of the girl I really adored.

  After this, she was gonna hate my ass. If the hatred kept her away from me, then I'd done my job.

  A quick look at my phone made me pick up the fucking pace. It was almost time for my check up. I wanted to be settled in before she showed up – not looking like a flustered asshole who'd just lied through his teeth.

  Because that's exactly what I was, and I wasn't done either.

  “It's looking really good. Fresh bandages, healing solution...how's the walking coming?”

  I looked into her eyes. Fuck, she looked innocent.

  Her hand was still on my side, lingering above the wound below my abs. Her touch was always warm, soothing, tempting.

  “It's fine,” I said. “Barely feel anything when I'm up and about. Hope you'll tell me I can workout again soon.”

  The snake in my head hissed, tempted to spout a more devious lie. It wanted me to tell her how badly I needed her, how much I needed to fuck. But the real snake was between my legs, aching to keep her hands on my flesh, begging for just one fuck.

  Shit, it had been so long.

  Last romp I'd had was back in North Dakota, long before we landed in Montana. Hadn't been able to do a damned thing since I'd laid eyes on her. If I could've fucked this all away with one of the whores or some stripper, then maybe I wouldn't be all wound up, ready to fold whenever she was close.

  Bastard, I thought. Stay focused. Got to get this brutal shit over with. You fuck her and then throw her away, and you'll make this a thousand times harder.

  “You need to keep using that cane, I said. Did you hear me?” Emma blinked, a shallow smile on her face.

  Fuck me. All this terrible desire and duty was making one hell of a distraction.

  “Yeah, I understand. Need to help my brothers pay back the rogue charter. It's a lot more personal since they fucked with Saffron. Can I ride if I'm not a hundred percent?”

  I didn't say shit about fighting because I knew that would really set her off.

  Her face lined with concern. “Maybe short distances. Only if it's absolutely necessary.”

  I nodded. “Won't be going anywhere too far past city limits.”

  Our intel told us the fucks were hiding around here somewhere. With the way they kept popping up like spiders, they had to be hiding right under our noses. Soon as we found them, Blaze was gonna bring the hammer down, and I wanted to drive the fucking nails in as Sergeant at Arms.

  “You shouldn't be going anywhere at all. I hope you're not about to get yourself into more trouble.” A worried smile crossed her lips. “It's somebody else's turn. I'm tired of seeing you on my table.”

  I looked past her at the door, trying to pull the pin at the right chance. Something was hanging there on the hook.

  “What's this? Someone got a new cut?”

  “Special order for Blaze,” she said. “Mom's a seamstress. She ordered it and put the patches on herself. It's...supposed to be a secret.”

  That got my attention. I wondered what the boss was up to. Standing up, I grabbed my own shirt and leather, and began to roll them on. Couldn't ignore the disappointment in her eyes as my bare skin was covered.

  “Okay, okay. You really want to know?” That perky ass smile on her face turned mischievous. She leaned in and cupped her hands around my ear. “He had it custom made for Saffron. He's taking her as his old lady. That's a big deal for the club, isn't it?”

  I was too lost in her hot, sweet breath to acknowledge what she was saying at first. Then it hit me like a bullet.

  Fuck! Is this whole MC losing its goddamned mind?

  Blaze and Saffron's drama wasn't gonna make this any easier. Steady adrenaline dumped into my blood. I tightened my fists instinctively, more determined than ever to finish this shit.

  “Listen, babe...” I peeled away from her and crossed the room, giving us some distance. “There's something I gotta get across.”

  She cocked her head. Undeterred,
Emma walked toward me, all tits and bobbing hips. If I didn't have a demon in my head, I would've lost it, hypnotized by the minx in the nurse's outfit.

  “What?” She reached out, hand up high, lacing her fingers over my neck. Studying my face, she could see the bad news before I said a damned thing. “Don't disappoint me again, Tank.”

  Her perfect lips parted, wet and hot and wonderful. All I could think about was occupying her heat with my tongue, discovering how those lips would look wrapped around my cock.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck!

  It all came down in a storm raging in my blood. I lost it, every fucking thing, smashing her steaming lips with mine.

  Everything was lost. The discipline, the buildup, the tension, the lies – all gone to shit in one fucking kiss!

  I kissed her long and hard, ripping her off the floor and slamming her to the wall. My whole body built up like a bomb, realizing how bad I missed this kinda pure throbbing sex since I'd owned her lips weeks ago.

  Fuck, maybe I was getting myself ready for how bad I'd miss it when I did the inevitable.

  I kissed her 'til she moaned, picking her up by the ass, throttling my hips against her. The greedy bastard between my legs was energized, straining like mad. I sucked her bottom lip into my mouth and bit down. Hard.

  My dick almost had me in a death grip – almost – until she jerked back and rubbed her lips.

  “Ow!” Surprise brushed the fire in her face. “What the hell was that?”

  I let go, my senses flooding back. The shit hit so fast and heavy it slammed right into the lust. The stormfronts clashing in my stomach nearly made me sick, two powerful forces trying to tear my ass in two.

  Sex. Lies.