by Joanna Wylde
“Can I buy you a drink?” asked a guy next to me, and I turned to look at him. He was cute—probably around my age or a little older, with a shock of dark black hair and green eyes. He was all frat boy, coated in a thick layer of Abercrombie and Fitch. Kelly would be all over him.
I opened my mouth to tell him I was married, then snapped it shut again because I wasn’t married anymore!
Holy crap, that was awesome. Suddenly I grinned at him like an idiot, leaning toward him to say, “No, but thanks for asking.”
I turned away to find the bartender smirking at our little exchange, and shrugged my shoulders in a “whatcha gonna do?” kind of move.
“Can I get a pitcher of water?”
“And a round of kamikazes,” a deep voice said behind me. I froze as big arms reached down to grasp the bar on either side of me.
Boonie?
I could see his reflection in the mirror behind the bartender. He stepped closer, crowding and covering me with his powerful body. Then he leaned down, smoothing aside my hair to speak directly in my ear.
“That guy sitting next to you looks like he wants to eat you,” he said. “You give him anything that should be mine?”
I stiffened, refusing to reply as the bartender set a tray of shots in front of us. Then I reached into a pocket to pay for them, because like I said—I buy my own drinks.
Boonie wrapped an arm around my waist, trapping my hand as he handed the bartender a wad of bills.
“I ordered the fuckin’ shots,” he rumbled in my ear. “What’s got your panties in a knot?’’
I smelled alcohol on his breath and I wondered who he’d been drinking with. Was it a woman? I turned in his arms to frown at him.
“I’ve decided to stay single for the rest of my life,” I announced grandly. “I don’t care how good you are at sex—I’m not interested.”
Boonie gave a shit-eating grin as he tipped the bartender.
“So you think I’m good at sex?’’
“Don’t be a dumbass,” I said, rolling my eyes. Uh oh. That made me dizzy. I caught his arm and steadied myself, wondering what I’d been planning to say.
“Where’s your table?’’ he asked. I glared at him.
“It’s full,” I declared. “We don’t have room for you.”
“You can sit on my lap.”
He wasn’t kidding about sitting on his lap. Kelly and the others squealed with excitement when they saw the tray of kamikazes, and they squealed harder when five big men wearing Silver Bastard and Reapers MC colors came to join us.
“You know,” Kelly slurred, leaning toward Boonie. “I didn’t like you very much this afternoon—even wished I hadn’t told you where to find us. I’m really glad I did.”
I turned on her.
“You’re responsible for this?” I demanded. “I thought you were on my team!”
“I’m sorry! It was before you took him back with you—remember I said I was trying for his phone number? And he bought us shots. He’s a good guy.”
I frowned, not liking how he’d pumped my friend for information. In all fairness, though, she’d probably been the one doing the pumping.
Pumping. Ha. A fit of giggles overtook me as I reached for another tiny glass.
“What’s so funny?” Boonie asked, his lips tracing the edges of my ear. It distracted me long enough for him to take away my drink and set it out of reach, which was really unfair. Then his hand started running up and down my thigh under the table and I forgot all about the booze.
“Kelly pumped you,” I said, giggling again.
He gave a low laugh. “Darce, you’re hot as hell but I got no fuckin’ idea what you’re talking about.”
I let my head flop back on his shoulder, smiling at him. God, he was beautiful. Kelly squawked as one of the bikers caught her hand, dragging her off toward the dance floor.
“You want to dance?” Boonie asked. I nodded, grinning at him. “I take it that means you’re over your snit?”
I frowned. “What snit?”
“At the bar. You looked pissed to see me. I wondered what’d been going through that brain of yours.”
I frowned, trying to remember. Oh, yeah. I wasn’t married anymore. That was pretty fabulous.
“I like being single,” I informed him. “I like how nobody tells me what to do. If you tell me what to do, that’ll piss me off.”
He laughed, then leaned close.
“Babe, I’m not Farell.”
I shifted in his lap, feeling the bulge of his cock flex under my ass. A wave of heated need ran through me, and my drunken mouth spoke before giving my brain a chance to weigh in.
“The last time I had any real penis/vagina action was with you in that cemetery,” I said, trying to focus on his face. Unfortunately things had started to spin, making it damned hard. Ha. Hard. I liked hard things. “Farell couldn’t get it up after the accident. We still fooled around and he got me off, but even that hasn’t happened for at least a year.”
“Jesus Christ,” he groaned, turning me toward him. One hand caught my hair, and then he was kissing me, tongue diving deep into my mouth. His dick turned rock solid under my ass and I wiggled happily because everything was tingly between my legs—woohoo!
The night turned fuzzy after that.
I know we danced for a long time. We also made out a bunch, which was perfectly fine because after every kiss I reminded him that I absolutely, positively wasn’t interested in a relationship.
Boonie just nodded and smiled—then he’d kiss me again.
The only part that wasn’t so great were the other bikers. Now that I knew how much money Farell owed, I was a little scared they might ask me about it. Fortunately, they were too busy trying to convince Kelly and the others to come back to their clubhouse and party to pay attention to me.
By last call, I was exhausted, starving, and horny as hell.
That’s when Kelly stood and informed us we needed a “potty break.” We all trouped to the bathroom in a giggly, wobbling clump, taking turns using the disgusting little stall as Kelly called for a vote.
“So what’s next, girls? We going to that party or doing our own thing?”
I frowned into the mirror, then made fish lips at myself. Glub. Glub. Funny . . . Sudden, loud shouting broke through my alcoholic fog and I blinked. This wasn’t happy, “We’re at the bar!” shouting. These were definitely “Holy shit, something’s really wrong!” sounds.
“What the fuck?” Kelly asked as we looked at each other with wide eyes. Creeping to the door, I opened it a smidge. People were rushing through the hall toward the emergency exit. Not good.
“We gotta get out of here,” I told her. Someone pushed against the door and I stepped back as Boonie opened it, his face dead serious.
“C’mon, all of you,” he said, grabbing my wrist to pull me out into the hall. The rest of the girls followed and then his friends were with us as we joined the tide of people. I still had no idea what the hell was going on. After a few long, confusing minutes the flow of bodies burst out into the alley and I saw flashing lights everywhere.
“Fuck,” Boonie said, jerking me closer. Good thing, too, because people were lurching and falling all around us. I heard someone shouting over a loudspeaker, but I couldn’t tell what they were saying.
We started following the back of the building, trying to get away from the crowd. In the distance I heard more cries and screams. I couldn’t see Kelly anymore. I couldn’t really see anything—just random people rushing in all directions, their faces panicked.
After an eternity of waiting, we reached the end of the alley and ran into the street. That’s when I saw the line of cops wearing riot gear and carrying plastic shields. They were shouting something . . .
“Get back!”
“Oh, fuck,” Boonie muttered. Suddenly a rock flew over our heads. It hit one of the cops. Then a glass beer bottle shattered against a shield. The police line faltered, and one of them stepped out of line, liftin
g his baton to hit a man who’d been standing too close. Suddenly the others started hitting people, too, and the crowd panicked. Everyone surged back but there was nowhere to run—the wall of people behind us just kept pressing forward. I felt Boonie’s grip on me slip.
“Boonie!” a man yelled. I looked over to see one of his biker friends waving at us. He plowed into the crowd, cutting a line toward us. Boonie caught me up, throwing me over his shoulder as he moved toward his friend. People were throwing more rocks now as the police kept fighting them.
What the hell? Things like this don’t happen in Coeur d’Alene!
The crowd ebbed and surged around us as Boonie fought free, then we were running across Lakeside Avenue into the neighborhood just north of downtown. We weren’t the only ones fleeing—all around people ran up the street, screaming and crying. I’d never seen anything like it.
‘’You okay?” Boonie asked, setting me back down. I nodded.
“The others already left,’’ his friend said.
“Thanks, brother,’’ Boonie told him. I looked at the biker, noting the Silver Bastard patches he wore. This man had thrown himself into a rioting crowd to guide us to safety, I realized. No wonder Boonie considered him a brother. For the first time, I realized the club might be more than a criminal gang . . .
“Thank you,” I said, and the man offered a toothy smile. I saw a trail of blood trickling down his forehead.
“Are you hurt?’’
“No worries,” he said, wiping at it. “One of ’em got me, but I got him back.”
The sudden, bright light of a spotlight filled my eyes.
“Stay where you are,” a voice said over a loudspeaker.
“Let’s go!” Boonie’s friend shouted, then we were running again as the sound of the rioting crowd grew louder behind us.
_______
Ten minutes later, Boonie and I slowed to a walk as we moved up Fifth Street. I had no idea where his friend had gone, or where Kelly was.
“Would your friends have taken the girls with them?” I asked Boonie as we stopped to lean against a wooden privacy fence. My breath came hard and my side hurt from running. At least I wasn’t feeling drunk anymore. Way too much adrenaline . . .
“Yeah, they should be fine,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “We planned it out when we came looking for you. Fuck. Don’t take this the wrong way, but every time I kiss you something blows up. I’m startin’ to think we’re cursed.”
I looked at him, and realized he was right. First the mine, then Farell’s crash . . . now whatever the ever-loving hell this had been.
“Damn. What do you think would happen if we actually made it to a second date?”
He stared at me, then his face cracked and he started laughing. I caught his mood, and then we were both laughing so hard tears ran down my face.
“Fuck if I know,” he said admitted finally. “Apocalypse or some shit?”
I sobered, frowning at him. He was joking, of course, but he raised a point. Bad things really did seem to happen every time we got together.
“Maybe for the good of humanity we should call it quits?”
“No way,” he said, pulling me into his body for a hard kiss. My insides heated and I guess I wasn’t totally sober after all, because I felt absolutely no inhibitions.
A car sped by and someone shouted, “Cops are coming!’’
Boonie dropped me abruptly. Down the street I saw the flash of blue lights.
“Are you kiddin’ me?” he asked, glancing around. “Over here.”
I followed him into the alley behind the fence. The yard had a gate, but it was locked. Not a problem for Boonie—he caught the edge of the fence and jumped, boosting himself up and over. Seconds later the gate opened from the inside. I ran through right before the squad car turned down the alley. Boonie slammed it shut behind me, and we both leaned back against it, panting.
“Are they looking for us?” I asked, confused.
“Doubt it,” he replied. “I mean, they always target the club, but I’m thinkin’ they just want to clear out downtown.”
“What the hell happened? Did you see anything?”
“Yeah,” he said. “There was a biker outside the bar. The cops were givin’ him shit, and then some guys in the crowd started arguing with them. By the time I realized what was happening, the biker was already gone. Still not quite sure how it turned into a riot.”
I glanced at him sharply. “Was he one of your friends?”
“Nope. Never saw him before and he wasn’t wearing club colors. All happened pretty damned fast. I think the cops panicked.”
Beyond the fence more lights flashed. We heard the police car pull into the alley, then it stopped and the lights went dark. I heard the crackle of the cop’s radio—he’d parked there. Crap.
“So now what?” I whispered. “I think we’re stuck here.”
Boonie shook his head, lifting a finger to his lips but it was too late.
“You hear something?” a voice asked. Suddenly a flashlight hit the other side of the fence, narrow strips of light shining through the cracks in the boards. I gasped. In an instant, Boonie caught me, covering my mouth with his hand.
“Boost me up,’’ said another man. “I’ll look over the top, maybe I’ll see something.”
Boonie let my mouth go, holding my gaze intently. As the cops shifted just inches from us, he jerked his chin behind me. I glanced around to see an overgrown lilac shrub—it was more than big enough to hide us . . . assuming we could reach it.
Fortunately we’d been in this situation before.
Not with the cops, of course. But when we’d been kids we’d had a far more terrifying nemesis.
Granny Blackthorne.
Twice a week she baked bread for her family, which she’d set out on her back porch. She also put out cookies, cupcakes, and even the occasional pie.
Looking back, it’s obvious that she was leaving the food for the kids in the trailer park. Most of us had enough to eat—at least during the school year, when we could get free lunches at school—but a lot of it was cheap, prepackaged shit. Not long after the worm incident, Boonie had judged me worthy to join his raiding party. Because I’d been a cute little girl, they’d used me as bait. I’d pick a handful of wildflowers, then go knock at Granny’s door. After a few minutes—her hearing wasn’t so good—she’d answer and I’d hold them out, offering my best gap-toothed smile and lisping about how much I liked her roses.
It was my job to keep her talking as long as possible, while Boonie and the boys went raiding. I’d wait for the signal and then run off to get my share of the booty.
She never caught on to us—or so we assumed—but no matter how much we stole, she put out more. Along the way, we’d developed a whole secret language of elaborate hand gestures, winks, et cetera, because you never knew what might happen during a highly dangerous food raid.
Now Boonie blinked at me twice in the old pattern.
Back up.
The cops were talking again, then I heard a flashlight hitting the boards. I nodded understanding, taking two steps backward as Boonie guided me. He caught my hands and lowered me to the ground. Seconds later I’d scooted silently into the safety of the shrub. Boonie followed, crawling over my body just in time.
Behind him—through the leaves—I saw the cop peering over the fence, shining his light into the back yard. Boonie looked down on me, his body heavy as we lay perfectly still.
“You see anything?” the cop asked his partner.
“Nope, looks clear.”
The man grunted as he dropped back down, his radio crackling again. I became more aware of Boonie’s weight pinning me in the darkness. His legs tangled with mine, reminding me of that afternoon in the woods above the trailer park.
He’d been heavy on me then, too. Now his hips pressed down and his mouth dropped over mine.
I wanted to protest—the cops were less than five feet away—but he didn’t give me a chance. He ni
pped at my lip, then shoved his tongue deep inside as I gasped. My head started to spin as he kissed me, taking advantage of the fact that I couldn’t risk making a sound.
When his hand trailed down my side, sliding between us to catch my thigh, I started getting nervous. When he pushed my leg out to grind his pelvis into me I felt something like panic, knowing there wasn’t much Boonie wouldn’t dare.
How far would he take this?
Farther than was comfortable. His cock pushed into the softness between my legs and like always, the chemistry between us was instant and powerful. He shifted, his erection rubbing against my clit. For long minutes he swiveled his hips slowly, pressing me back into the dirt as fire raced up my spine.
I wanted to strain against him but I couldn’t—he was already being so reckless, so crazy. No matter what I did, I’d risk making noise. Not that they had any reason to arrest us.
Not any legitimate reason.
But not half an hour ago I’d watched the police beating people with clubs, people just like me—and that was in front of witnesses. What would they do here in the dark, where nobody could see them?
Boonie pushed up on one arm, still holding my lips captive as he reached down to catch my shirt. Then his fingers caught my left nipple, pinching it lightly and tugging as his hips kept their steady rhythm.
We heard thudding footsteps as a group of people ran by, the police parked beyond the fence racing to meet them. Someone screamed. I couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything.
Boonie wasn’t so inhibited.
Taking advantage of the distraction, he lifted his hips and reached down to unzip his pants. Then he pulled up my skirt and I felt my ass hit the bare dirt.
I really needed to stop wearing skirts.
Seconds later his fingers slid inside me and I’m embarrassed to admit how wet I was already. (Okay, make that stop wearing skirts and invest in some serious granny panties, because these thongs weren’t providing any protection at all.)
His thumb found my clit as his fingers hit my g-spot. I arched my back, and I would’ve cried out if he hadn’t caught my mouth with his again, swallowing the sound.