“No!”
Then, he invaded her space and put her on the offensive, driving her towards the wall. Eventually he pinned her against it.
She curled her fist to pop him under the jaw, but he seized her wrist and slapped it back against the bricks and held it there, without much effort.
“Let me go!”
“I wanted to help you work off some of the anger, not fight you.”
“Release me,” she snarled.
“Not until you chill the fuck out, Wildcat,” he snapped.
Then, the mood shifted as his gaze drifted to her mouth. He got closer, bracketing her with his body, occupying her space.
“Stop struggling.” He said that oh so quietly. His mouth hovered over hers. “Give in, let me lead.”
Warmth pooled between her thighs, and suddenly her breasts ached, feeling swollen and heavy. He pushed his nose into the curve of her neck and inhaled. Then he made a rumbling male sound of appreciation in the back of his throat.
He traced her pounding pulse with the tip of his tongue, before he bit down slightly, just holding her skin between his teeth, making her shudder.
“All those men staring at you, wanting you, but you feel like mine.” With a groan, he lifted her shirt, and rolled the edge of her sports bra up, until her breasts spilled into his big hands. “These definitely feel like mine.” The nipples hardened as he tweaked them. “Tonight, those dickheads got to see what belongs to me. Know what I wanted to do?”
She had to clear her throat, before she could speak and God help her, she was mesmerized. “What?” she asked.
He kissed one of her nipples, before drawing it in his hot mouth and sucking, all the while staring up at her, pinning her eyes with his own.
Daisy thought her knees might buckle, but he kept her upright.
“Claim you. Put my name on you. I need to be inside you.” His voice had gone guttural, and rough. “I want to fuck you. I’ll go crazy if I don’t.” Daisy could feel the hard length of him, pressed up against her belly, hot and ready.
I have to stop this. Think about Rose!
“We can’t do this, Cowboy,” she breathed.
He pressed his forehead against hers and shut his eyes. “I know, but I can’t think of a fucking reason why not, just now.”
“I can.” She swallowed hard. It was the only thing she wanted more than Cowboy, to find Rose. So, she forced herself to say something that’d shut this whole thing down. “What if you and I become fuck buddies and then I have to sleep with a Raptor to keep my cover?”
That did it.
He reared back from her, anger replacing the lust. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
She dragged her clothing back into place. “Cowboy, how long do you think I can work there without acting like the other dancers? I have to blend in. They’ll get suspicious if I never hook up with anyone.”
She had no idea they did the whole public orgy thing, but she’d go along with the freak show if it meant getting Rose back.
“Tell me you aren’t seriously considering letting one of those bastards stick his dick in you!”
“I’m saying I’ll do anything I have to in order to get her back,” Daisy said slowly.
“Even whore yourself out to the bikers who took her?”
“It isn’t like that! I’m a Marine and I will do anything to complete my mission. No matter what the cost.”
He didn’t say anything, but his eyes spoke volumes. She couldn’t even begin to sort through it all.
“My body, my rules. You and I are partners. Nothing more.”
“Un-fucking-believable,” he grated out. He stalked towards the exit and then turned to glower at her. “Enjoy bedding down with the enemy, soldier.”
Cowboy slammed the door shut.
Chapter Nine
Daisy woke up, just before noon. She hadn’t been able to crash until around five, too keyed up from her fight with Cowboy. After getting up, taking a shower, and making some truly horrible coffee in the small pot in her room, she’d trudged to the vending machine for food.
She’d thought about going to the diner, but decided against it, figuring she’d run into Cowboy again. She didn’t particularly want a public argument in front of his MC brothers and she had a feeling that’s what would happen.
After polishing off some cookies, she kept busy by going through her files. She had quite a collection, nearly a hundred newspaper clippings altogether. Daisy had gathered general information on motorcycle gangs from law enforcement websites, and she’d been amused to discover the FBI referred to them as OMGs, apparently shorthand for Outlaw Motorcycle Gangs.
She’d gotten a copy of her sister’s missing person’s report and she also had a couple of notebooks filled with details on Rose’s last couple of days before she disappeared, information gleaned from Stephanie, as well as her college friends.
She hadn’t been able to get a photo of Rock, not even on her sister’s social media websites, which raised a few flags. What college girl didn’t upload selfies taken with her new boyfriend? Daisy thought maybe Rock had asked Rose not to take pictures. She’d been forced to rely on Rose’s friends’ descriptions of the man. Other than referring him to as dark-haired and eyed, their descriptors focused mostly on vague biker attributes: rode a Harley, wore a leather vest, and what the club logo looked like.
The other info she had, focused exclusively on the Raptors. Some of the articles featured members arrested for possession or assault, or members being killed in suspected drug deals gone bad. She also had clippings about brothers on trial for murder, though none of them had “turned rat” or offered up information on their club in order to secure a lesser sentence.
That kind of loyalty didn’t bode well for her plan. She hoped she could find a weak link in this group.
Around seven, she decided to go for a drive because she needed to clear her head. Daisy considered the Silverado her baby, and it was the only thing she owned, other than clothing and weapons. She’d had to save up for a year to afford it and had stored the truck at a Marine buddy’s place while she’d gone back to Afghanistan for yet another tour.
After a leisurely drive through Hell, she found herself at Inferno Firearms. The sign featured blazing handguns surrounded by a circle of fire. She’d never been able to resist a gun store. Daisy hadn’t been unarmed since before she’d joined the Marines.
It wouldn’t hurt to ogle the guns a bit, would it?
Inside, she found every weapon imaginable. Inferno had long walnut display cases full of knives, Tasers, and all the guns she could want.
At the counter, another Horsemen stood and while he wasn’t her type, she’d classify him as smokin’ hot, like all the rest. They really do grow ‘em bigger and badder in this part of Texas.
He had short, spiked black hair, and a neatly trimmed beard with warm hazel eyes. He wore a black tank top under his cut. One bared bicep featured a star tattoo and several words were inked inside the shape: Freedom, integrity, and tolerance. The other bicep had the club’s insignia.
Behind him, he had a nice selection of rifles. In particular, she liked the look of the bolt-action Winchester. Damn fine gun.
He winked at her. “Welcome to Inferno Firearms. Can I help you?”
“I’m only having a little look see,” she said. “Love the store. You’ve got some really nice merchandise.” She gave him a firm handshake. “My name is Daisy.”
“I’m Steele, nice to meet you.” Recognition flared in his big blue eyes. “Hold up, you’re working with Cowboy, right?”
Busted. “Yes.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “He said you’d probably come in here.”
Dammit. Cowboy could be a buzzkill sometimes.
“Did he say anything else?”
“Under no circumstances should I sell you a gun.” He offered her an apologetic smile.
“I’m only looking, I didn’t say I wanted to buy anything.”
He raised a
brow, clearly not buying it.
The phone rang and he picked it up. As Steele spoke with the caller, she drifted over to the small collection of derringers, dainty little guns which only held two shells. It would be the perfect size to slip into one of her slutty costumes and two shots is better than nothing. Too bad, Cowboy put a preemptive kibosh on the shopping trip.
Steele finished his call and drifted over to where she stood at the display case. “Sorry about that, we’re a little shorthanded around here.”
She smiled. “I’m sure you won’t be that way for long, who wouldn’t want to work in this place?” She’d often thought it’d be the perfect business to own.
His lips twitched. “You’re an enthusiast, huh?”
“You could say that.”
He cocked his head to the side as he gave her a twice over. “If you’re so into guns, you should be able to answer a few questions. Who is Walt Berger?”
“Are you interviewing me or something?” she asked, raising her chin.
“Nah, you already got a job with the club, but I’m curious. We don’t get many women in this place other than wives buying guns as a present. Are you stalling or what?” he challenged. “Answer the question.”
“Ha, that’s an easy one. He makes bullets.”
He raised a brow, gave her a considering look. “Which gun is known as the Peacemaker?”
“The Colt M1873,” she answered with a smug smile.
She read some respect in his eyes, then. “I heard you’re a Marine.”
“You heard right.”
He turned around, slung his cut down so she could see the Semper Fi tattooed at the base of his neck. Then, he grabbed that gorgeous Winchester off the wall, and began reciting the Marine rifleman’s creed. “This is my rifle. There are many like it, but this one is mine.” Then, he handed it off to her.
She loved the feel of steel in her hands again. “My rifle is my best friend. It is my life,” she intoned. “I must master it as I must master my life.” Together, they finished reciting the rest of the creed and grinned when they finished. He placed the gun back on the wall.
“Oorah, leatherneck,” he bellowed.
“Oorah, devildog!” she shouted.
Leatherneck and devildog, along with jarhead and some others were alternate names for a Marine. She hadn’t been around other soldiers in a while and she missed the camaraderie. Especially, the little things. Like when they greet each other, soldiers ‘sound off” loud and proud, part showmanship, and part pissing contest, to see who the biggest baddest Marine was.
He lifted his chin. “Sorry, I can’t sell you a piece, but you give those Raptors some Marine-style hell.”
“I plan on it.” With a grin, she left the shop.
***
“You mind givin’ me a hand?”
Daisy had been about to climb into her Silverado and head out when she turned to see the older woman she’d spoken with at the diner the other day, Eddie, trying to manhandle three large bags of ice into the trunk of her SUV. She rushed over to help, grabbing one of the big bags and heaving it into the vehicle.
Eddie wiped away the moisture on the legs of her tight jeans. “You got plans tonight, honey?”
“Uh,” she hesitated. Crap.
She placed her hands on her hips. “You’re about to lie, so save it. I’m having a party tonight, just the girls. You are coming with me.”
“I don’t think I should. I really don’t know anyone here.”
“The best place to meet people is at a party.” She grinned. “Besides, it’s for a good cause. Lexie Cooper, the president’s daughter, just recently moved here for grad school. Poor thing doesn’t know anyone and it’s her twenty-first birthday.”
Oh God. A twenty-first birthday beer bash? No thanks. She’d gotten a bit old for that crap. Especially since she’d started working at a strip club full of horny, drunken dudes. A quiet night in front of the television sounded a hell of a lot better. “Sorry, I can’t—”
“I get it. You’re strong, independent, and you don’t want to get involved.” She sighed. “Dear Lord, you remind me of myself at your age. But I’m not above a little arm twisting. You are working with the club now and attending this party is filed under the category of other duties as assigned. But don’t worry! I make some first rate moonshine.”
She fished her keys out of her pocket and strutted to the driver’s side door on her clackety high heels. “Enough, chit chat. Let’s get motoring. I’ve got to run a few errands and you can follow me.”
“Crap,” Daisy said succinctly, heading for her truck with a sense of impending doom.
Chapter Ten
Cowboy settled into his chair around the Four Horsemen’s boardroom table for the weekly meeting. Perdition, the club-owned bar, served as the clubhouse and Horsemen headquarters.
The boardroom had been designed to intimidate others. The steel entrance doors were stamped with the image of a stallion’s head, along with the club’s name. A quote from Revelations was painstakingly carved into the long oak table dominating the room: Behold a pale horse. And his name that sat on him was Death. And Hell followed with him.
Yet another bible quote hung in a poster-sized frame hung on the wall: And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who would attempt to poison and destroy my brothers.
He shot a glance around the room, noting they had a full table tonight, and then some. All of the members were present – Captain, Shepherd, Justice, Axel, Voodoo, Goat, Duke, Coyote, Breaker, Jagger, Ranger, Ryker, Renegade, Ace, Steele, and Wild. Even the prospects were in attendance because of a special piece of new business, though they’d been instructed to shut the hell up.
“We’re gonna call this a speed meeting,” Captain said. “My daughter’s birthday is tonight and if I’m late gettin’ her to Eddie’s place, I’ll never hear the fucking end of it.”
The men laughed in response. The club didn’t have many old ladies or kids these days, but the ones who remained were very important. In the past, a lot of the brothers had been convicted under RICO statutes, and most of the old ladies bailed, taking their kids with them.
The bikers who weren’t convicted and sent away for life, ended up dead in a shootout with FBI agents and the cartel. It had been a messy, bloody episode in club history. None of them wanted any repeats and they kept the club mostly legit these days, a big part of the reason they invested in businesses.
Cowboy hadn’t been around at the time, but he’d heard the idea to buy the town businesses was spearheaded by Eddie. Since a lot of the old ladies had gotten the fuck out of Dodge and most of the brothers were out of commission, she’d stepped up with an investment strategy to save the Four Horsemen. Captain served as president, but since he didn’t have an old lady, Eddie was viewed as the female figurehead for the MC.
Captain nodded to Shepherd. “Let’s talk old business, first. We still have that toy run in San Antonio in a couple of weeks. Who wants to go?”
All the men held up their hands, except Duke and himself. Duke had never been much of a joiner and Cowboy had the ongoing assignment at the Palace.
Captain wrote down their names. “Okay then, we’ll close up shop those days.Duke and Cowboy will be the point men while we’re gone”. He turned to Shep. “How’s Eddie’s bootlegging going?”
“Very well. She’s supplying to three counties right now.” He leaned back in his chair. “Best fuckin’ moonshine in Texas.”
The men pounded the table in agreement. It was good shit, but you had to be careful, it could get you commode-huggin’, knee-walkin’ drunk real quick.
“The operation might be getting too big for its britches,” Captain said thoughtfully. “I’ll warn her to keep it a small, in case ATF decides to poke around. Or in case those Beauregard bastards gets wind of it.”
The Beauregards were notorious bootleggers in the area. They might not be an MC, but they had an outlaw outlook when it came to protecting their terr
itory.
Captain glanced at Cowboy. “Any Raptor news?”
“They’re a bunch of closed-lipped motherfuckers,” he griped. “We ain’t got nothin’ yet.”
“Tell us as soon as you know more,” Shepherd said. “Especially about the brothel. Once you get the location, we’ll send a couple brothers to scope it out.”
“Agreed,” Captain said. “Someone else should go. If Cowboy shows up, they’re bound to get suspicious.”
Cowboy dipped his head in agreement.
“Next order of business,” Captain said, gesturing to Steele. “Did Detective Frost hand anything off to you?”
In addition to running Inferno and the shooting range, Steele did some bounty hunting on the side. He didn’t have a criminal record and enjoyed skip tracing for fun and profit, along with a vigilante gig now and then.
“Frost got tipped off by a contact at child support enforcement. There’s a guy being paid under the table who owes his kids six thousand bucks,” Steele informed them. “He’s part of some gambling operation out of Dallas. Since his illegal income isn’t reported, there’s no way to take money from the dickhead’s paycheck. Apparently, he’s been stiffing his kids, while he’s livin’ the high life. Frost wants me to help adjust his attitude.”
Frost usually let Steele know when some asshole slipped through the legal cracks, so the club could administer some justice, nothing which would blow back on Frost, of course. In this case, if the deadbeat tried to fight it, he’d expose the illegal gambling operation and get a long ass jail sentence, if he was lucky enough to avoid a bullet from his employers.
The Horsemen also extracted an “asshole fee” from people they had to mete out some vigilante justice to. Cowboy thought it was only fair that they charged the perpetrators, not the victims who came to them for assistance. They’d extorted asshole fees from stalkers, rapists, molesters and the like. Along with the fee, the MC also got some measure of compensation for the victim as well. Sometimes money like the deadbeat dad case, sometimes something a little more inventive. And bloody.
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